


Stay with Me, Sweetheart

by baeconandeggs, chanyeoloving



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 1920s vibes maybe, Fluff, Love/Hate, M/M, Pianist Chanyeol, Smut, rich heir baekhyun, slight angst, subtle class differences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24543460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanyeoloving/pseuds/chanyeoloving
Summary: Chanyeol plays the piano and mocks the rich, jazz music always a buzz behind him. Until the grand Oasis finally docks one day and Byun Baekhyun steps off.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 34
Kudos: 257
Collections: BAE2020





	Stay with Me, Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** BAE1103  
>  **Disclaimer: baeconandeggs/the mods is/are not the author/s of this story. Authors will be credited and tagged after reveals.** The celebrities' names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this fictional work. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> **Author's Note:** This isn’t the best I’ve ever done and it’s a little messy but I hope you all enjoy reading it. Thank you so much to E and P for all the help ♡ Thank you to the mods too for always giving us this fest every year.

“The Oasis has arrived!”

  
The dock is filled with a buzz coming from the towns people, sturdy under their footsteps as they mill around the ropes holding the ship against the deck. Flags float amongst it all, a few handkerchiefs, too, and the people scurry off the grand ship, falling into the arms of their loved ones. There’s kisses and tears and excited chatter while The Oasis is marvelled at.

The famous ship is royal purple in colour, bronze embellishments lining the front, round windows along the sides and three sails stand tall on the pantries, the dining halls, and bedrooms. The open terrace is equally as wide for morning strolls, the floors dark in colour and the railings still shining with glossy paint. The grandest cruise liner that had set sail from France and made its final stop at Seoul after hundred and five days. A ship manned by Captain Yixing, who stands in the captain’s quarters, waving at the fellow passengers with a pleased smile and deep dimples.

  
In front of all of that, in a café where chairs and tables are scattered around outside for the guests to enjoy the view, the double doors open wide so the music can be heard and bring some sort of joy and serenity, is Park Chanyeol seated in front of a piano.

The music is loud, even with the endless chatter and heartfelt laughs. His fingers rough but gentle as he hits the black and white keys, throwing his head back and sending a wink to his less than amused friends. They pull faces at him, sipping at their teas, before he’s laughing, too, leaning further into the piano. With an unlit cigarette in his mouth and the straps of his suspenders almost falling off his broad shoulders, Chanyeol eyes the grand ship that stands only metres away. He hums as the guests step off and the smoke from the funnels slowly dies down.

And it’s then when he suddenly stops playing.

“Chanyeol?”

It’s leather shoes he sees first, clean and expensive, stepping off the ship, cautious and timid, like they’ve never set foot on land before. It’s a pinstripe suit, black with faint white stripes, tailored a little too perfectly against thin legs and thick thighs, until Chanyeol’s gaze reaches the clear diamond buttons of his suit jacket, twinkling under the soft summer sunlight.

It’s a pretty face that soon comes into view once the umbrella is lifted up out of the way, white just like the gloves the man is wearing and lined with the thinnest lace. He stands on the first step of the staircase, maids and bags surrounding him, taking the umbrella into his own hands. So, it is pretty eyes that droop down slightly, coloured with kohl, and thin lips, a cupid bow so prominent and a nose like a button, that has Chanyeol with his breath caught in his throat.

“Hey, hey, where’d you think you’re going?”

The pianist’s ears are buzzing when Jongdae calls after him, his friend pocketing his poker cards and money, running out of the café just the same. They weave in through the crowd, nearly tripping over cobbled steps and bumping into young boys selling the local newspaper. But even then, Chanyeol doesn’t stop. Neither does Jongdae, who curses under his breath and fists his hand around the tall man’s hat that he had left on top of the piano

“Your hair’s a mess, Park! At least take this.”

Chanyeol only turns around for a second or two, mouth pulled into a grin and black hair windswept as he looks over his shoulder and catches the hat Jongdae throws at him.

“What would I do without you, Dae?”

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing!”

As Chanyeol comes to a stop at the bottom of the ship’s stairs, tipping his hat at the guards eyeing him from their posts, the man jolts in his place, surprised. And it’s then when Byun Baekhyun grips tightly onto his umbrella, steps down onto the ground and tilts his face up, nose in the air, looking down at the him with those pretty eyes painted with pink, that Chanyeol realises just how small he is. With that thought in mind, without thinking, the pianist reaches out, gesturing to the piles of luggage by their feet. His own almond eyes are huge and blinking as he waits.

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, just looks speculative, curious, as he unashamedly lets his eyes roam over the tall stranger from head to toe. He takes in his tight suspender straps, sturdy and slightly bent against his firm torso, somewhat visible through his thin cotton shirt that moves along with the wind. The sunset burns behind him, orange and red with slight hues of purple, but his big eyes seem much brighter against it all. There’s his lopsided smile, too – like he’s known Baekhyun for years – bottom lip plump and slightly chapped. And those ears – huge ears – tinted red unlike the colour of his hands and forearms, tanned and toned just like his upper arms that bulge and strain against his shirt. He’s a mess, Baekhyun thinks, and there’s no harm in observing. Yet, under his gaze, the stranger just smiles wider.

“Voluntary work, Sir,” Chanyeol explains, slouching just a little, still towering over the other man.

“Sir?”

Just one word, and Chanyeol thinks a man has never made him lose his breath.

“If you’re older than my twenty one years of age, correct me please.” He pauses, waiting for an answer. His smile is too big, and Baekhyun continues to stare at him like he’s uncertain, thinking him to be untrustworthy because a stranger’s eyes should never sparkle so much.

“Twenty six.” Baekhyun hums.

Chanyeol nods, enthusiastic as he reaches down for the luggage again. Baekhyun lets him wordlessly, while stealing glances of the people around them, squinting his eyes slightly when the sunlight peeks in through his umbrella.

“So where would you like me to take these—”

“Park, if you do not get your hands off those bags, I will let your aunt know!” A man comes barrelling in, his hat almost falling off his head and the local newspaper rolled up in one hand. Chanyeol winces at the shrill voice and almost drops the luggage on his feet. “Mr Byun, I would not trust this man with a paper boat let alone my personal belongings.”

Junmyeon, the owner of the café that Chanyeol plays a few tunes at on late evenings, for the fun of it and nothing more, comes to stand beside the two of them. He looks at Baekhyun, confused and out of breath, before he’s looking up at an uneasy looking Chanyeol with narrowed eyes.

_“Hyung.”_

“Boys like him are after one thing, Mr Byun, and that’s your heart.”

Chanyeol sees the clear understanding on Baekhyun’s face as soon as the man turns to look at him, lips slowly forming into a grimace while he hurriedly steps to the side with his luggage. Chanyeol stares bashfully between an angry looking Junmyeon and Baekhyun, who begins to tap his foot against the ground, with his arms crossed over his pinstripe suit and his eyes searching the crowd, irritated and a little desperate.

“Charming boys like him would only play you the piano and hope to have you swooning.”

_“Hyung!”_

“Come on, Chanyeol. Let us leave Mr Byun. He is a very busy man; do not bother him with your nonsense.”

With that, Junmyeon begins to drag the tall boy away, pulling at the side of his loose, white shirt as Chanyeol groans loudly. Neither of them notice Baekhyun watching them leave. So, he just stares at the boy with the long bowed legs, with the unkempt hair and plump lips and huge ears, stumbling into a newspaper cart, till they disappear into the crowd.

Even as Jongin topples towards him with a handful of his own suitcases, pristine navy coloured suit crumpled and shoes a little scuffed, pulling him towards their car, Baekhyun doesn’t look away and clicks his tongue.

A sulking Chanyeol is brought back to the café, where his friends are jostling around near the front door, bidding their goodbyes to the owner who is closing up for the day. Sehun spots him first, smirking at him like he’s amused, until he’s chortling when Jongdae tugs Chanyeol down by throwing an arm around his shoulder. Kyungsoo just sighs and sidles up to them.

“Bet you can’t get a pretty thing like him into your bed, Park.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Chanyeol scolds, placing a hand on Jongdae’s face and shoving him away, his words almost muffled under his friend’s loud guffaw, “It’s probably rather easy, but it would probably also be a mess, I tell you. Rich guys and all.”

“Right.”

Yet, when Chanyeol catches the sight of the man, sat in an expensive looking car, face visible through the wide windows and under the softening sunlight, he sighs, wistful, and just ruffles his hair out of embarrassment – because he’s surely embarrassed himself in front of Byun Baekhyun. Although, he’d probably never see him again.

“Even if they are pretty.”  
  
  
  
  
The city is quiet on a Sunday evening, most homes have their lights turned off and curtains pulled shut, while the markets are closing up, but Chanyeol finds himself wandering around the upper part of the neighbourhood. Hands in his pockets and a toothpick between his lips, he walks to where Jongdae had told him they’d be.

He has no clue as to what his friends would be doing in the Elyxion district, where the rich live with their huge houses and long bungalows, and tall lampposts that seemingly look expensive, too. A place where they throw parties whether it’s day or night, where there’s black coloured cards and rose gold window frames, velvet curtains and marble floors. A place where people like Jongdae or Chanyeol have no business being.

Chanyeol soon spots a house, lit from the inside, thrumming with muted jazz music as people talk in rooms or lounge outside in a backyard big enough for royalty. Thinking nothing of it, he comes to stop, hands still in the pockets of his tight corduroy trousers, eyes imploring while he takes in the scene. He feels the faint summer breeze through his thin shirt, his suspenders hanging loosely against his thighs instead of around his torso and shoulders. And with an appreciative hum, he turns around to leave. Until he sees Sehun trying to stand on Kyungsoo’s shoulders, the shorter boy unimpressed, more so when he spots Chanyeol walking towards them.

“What are you guys doing?”

The deep timbre of Chanyeol’s voice has Jongdae jumping a mile away, blinded by surprise for a few seconds before he realises just who had caught them. His mischievous smile leaves the tall man looking at him with tired eyes.

“We’re just having a little fun, Yeol. Riling up the riches,” Sehun explains, tongue stuck out in concentration as he knocks on the windowpanes of the wealthy looking house. The lights are on in every room, bright and casting glows onto the grass, every pair of velvet curtains having been pulled open, showing off silhouettes of people inside. There’s only one person in the room above their heads, and Sehun isn’t giving up.

“By the time they call the police, we’ll be long gone.”

“Boys, I don’t think—”

But before he knows it, the warning whisper simmers down in Chanyeol’s throat because the window suddenly opens and reveals a very familiar face.

His droopy eyes look alarmed as he looks around frantically, trying to make out the faces under the window and under the shadows, blinking furiously until Jongdae decides to wave up at him. However, the deep scowl doesn’t come until Baekhyun finally spots Chanyeol standing amongst them – never having thought he’d ever see him again. Irritation bubbles up inside of Baekhyun because he’s just standing there so casually, hands in his pockets and those large eyes lightening up like fireflies.

“You!”

The tiredness disappears and Chanyeol feels the pull of his own cheeks before he registers Baekhyun’s anger, “were you waiting for me, Sweetheart?”

Baekhyun fumes, “Do not call me that! I barely know you.”

“You could get to know me.”

Sehun starts guffawing the same time Chanyeol starts to rock back and forth on his heels, causing Kyungsoo to lose his balance and send them both towards the floor. Baekhyun doesn’t notice them, though, and neither does he notice Jongdae hollering behind Chanyeol with a stolen flute of champagne in his hand. He winces every time he takes a sip before Kyungsoo stands up and snatches it away from him. it’s all a blur as the short man downs it all in one go while Sehun is stilling laughing, noticing the way Chanyeol sends a wink that has Baekhyun gaping at him.

“You wait right there! You and your friends,” He warns, leaning further out of the window, cheeks red and eyes staring down at all of them, flabbergasted. He points a finger right at the pianist, and Chanyeol notices the blue coloured gloves he’s wearing, silk and a shade lighter than his suit – Baekhyun’s words going right over his head, “you think a man like me cannot chase after hooligans like you!”

There’s music and there’s chatter, but there’s also Chanyeol and his friends laughing behind the side of the house, under the moonlight. Until Baekhyun disappears and soon enough comes tumbling outside with Jongin behind him, a glass vase in his hands and the same angry look on his face.

“Run, Yeol! Run!”  
  
  
  
  
On a Thursday afternoon, Baekhyun finds himself sulking at Jongin tugging at the sleeve of his suit – a pine green colour that has heads turning towards him, being drawn to the soft beige gloves he’s wearing. They’re in a tram, packed with people, feeling hot and stuffy, because Jongin had insisted that it’s the only way to truly travel around the city. So, they had ditched their chauffeur and caught the next tram near the train station. Now, his best friend is vibrating with joy while Baekhyun sits on the seat closest to the aisle, ignoring Jongin while he takes in the tiny shops piled together before the roads start growing wider and the tram hobbles over the cobbled stone streets.

It isn’t until the tram empties out a few stops after that Baekhyun is scrunching up his nose, turning towards Jongin slowly with a small pout on his face because he had no idea how people could be so rowdy. A group of passengers step into the tram, their jostling loud, and the men stand with their back towards him. He’s squinting his eyes when the pout falls off as one of them turns around, revealing someone with curled lips and a Cheshire-like smile, shorter than the tall man standing to his left. A tall man with very familiar ears.

Baekhyun never saw it coming. He should have, as he realises it’s Chanyeol standing in front of him, slouching against a pole inside the tram, blabbering on about something no one can make sense of, but Jongdae notices him, too, then. And before anyone could understand what’s happening, not even Sehun or Kyungsoo, he’s pushing at his friend’s chest and making him lose his balance. Chanyeol topples over and onto Baekhyun’s lap.

The smaller’s grunt is muffled under the man’s curse, the pianist’s body heavy on his own before the latter is scrambling up to his feet, apologising profusely without realising just who he had fallen on. Chanyeol stops abruptly, however, as he straightens himself up, attempts to elbow Jongdae and finally locks eyes an annoyed looking Baekhyun. His eyes trail over to Jongin, who watches with big eyes and a parted mouth, briefly greeting him, before he’s smiling that stupid grin again.

“Well, if it isn’t Sweetheart!”

Chanyeol’s greeting is loud and Baekhyun winces when a couple of heads turn to him, quickly looking back out of the tram window as if he isn’t there. With arms crossed over his chest and his eye twitching under the tall man’s gaze, Chanyeol takes in Baekhyun’s unusual coloured suit against the dull blue of the tram seats; he takes in his styled hair, brown and neat and partially covering his forehead. He notices the gloves, too, different from last time, definitely different from the first time, but he keeps his mouth shut and lets the corner of his mouth pull up into a smirk.

 _Pretty,_ he thinks.

The tram soon reaches the heart of the town, surrounded by stalls selling clothing and trinkets, voices yelling out bargains and carts wobbling across the steps. Baekhyun climbs off precariously, gloved hand holding onto the railing and eyes trained on his leather shoes, so he doesn’t ruin the tips of them by brushing them against the floor. Just as he steps off and dusts off his slacks, he looks up to see Chanyeol staring at him as the tall man stands beside a food stall, his friends already bantering with the seller for a greater deal. Like that, they stare at each other wordlessly, until Chanyeol lifts up a hand and slowly waves at him. Baekhyun just turns his nose up in the air and drags an unexpecting Jongin away.

Hours pass and the bustling of the town centre starts to quieten down. The sun also starts to set, and the lanterns are being lit up, smoke billowing from open food stalls and family-run stores becoming a little more lively.

Baekhyun soon finds a stall selling flowers; tulips, carnations and different sorts of roses lining the front as Jongin peers over him with a finger against his chin and his eyes calculating. A few bystanders stand next to him, marvelling at his tanned skin and sharp features, marvelling at Baekhyun, too, him and green suit and silk gloves – upper district men shopping for flowers with their thick wallets and expensive tastes.

But they leave when a group of boys come barrelling in, and as Kyungsoo is mumbling about how pink tulips are nice to Jongin, Baekhyun’s eyes land on Chanyeol behind him. Chanyeol, who blinks at him like he can’t quite believe he’s bumped into him again. Chanyeol, who also looks very handsome with his dark hair pushed away from his face and forehead, shirt a little tighter than they usually are, chest broad and shoulders straight under it, like he could make all the ladies and men swoon – and he does. Baekhyun shakes his head at his thoughts. Instead, he focuses on Jongin blushing bright red under Kyungsoo’s gaze and at Chanyeol reaching for a handful of baby’s breaths.

“Are you planning on stealing those?”

The question catches Chanyeol off guard, if only for a second, before he’s standing up from where he was slouched over the flowers.

He glowers, voice rough, “I’ll have you know that my piano playing is adorned by some. I can afford flowers, Sweetheart.”

“Oh, really—”

“Boy can play the guitar, too,” Jongdae comes tumbling in, cutting him off and sliding up to Baekhyun, a little too closely like they’re good friends. The older man just purses his lips at the sight of him talking with a mouth full of hot food he had gotten from the next booth over, “if you’re into that.”

Rubbing the crumbs off his hands onto the front of his shirt, Jongdae swiftly snatches a couple of baby breaths from Chanyeol’s hands, starling him. The pianist watches as Jongdae places them into the breast pocket of Baekhyun’s suit jacket. He pats it once, a friendly smile on his face before he’s looking over at Chanyeol, eyes questioning and just as bright.

“You mind?” is what he asks, earning an exaggerated eye roll from Chanyeol while he brings his gaze back to Baekhyun, who stands there with his mouth agape and his eyes accusatory, staring between the two men in front of him and the flowers tucked away in his pocket. “Just a welcoming gift from us. From Yeol.”

“I barely know the two of you.” Baekhyun manages to say, closing his mouth, lips pulled up into one corner, a pretty frown on his face. Even though, he makes no move to get rid of the flowers.

Jongdae doesn’t answer. Instead, he tips his hat and runs over to Sehun and Jongin, hollering till his voice echoes through the market stalls. And when Baekhyun breaks out of his stupor, spending a minute or two scrutinising the white baby breathes, feeling the heat crawl up his neck and onto his reddening cheeks, he knows Chanyeol is staring at him.

So, when he looks up, nose in the air and mouth pulled together, a little condescending with his shoulders squared and his gloved hands clasped together, he looks up into Chanyeol’s eyes.

And they shimmer when he speaks, under the bright moonlight, under the small dim bulbs hanging from the ceiling of the market stall. Full of mirth and a little wonder. “you sure do blush a lot for someone you don’t want to know.”

Chanyeol’s laugh is loud and it lingers even as he ducks under the frame of the market stall and runs away, glancing back over his shoulder with the brightest grin on his face to see Baekhyun as red as the roses behind him. His mouth is open, and his eyes are blinking too fast, as if he couldn’t believe what just happened, Chanyeol’s laugh is heavy in his chest when he finally finds his friends loitering around the food stalls, stuffing hot churros into their mouths. It’s full when he sits down on an empty seat on the bench, laughing at whatever comes out of Sehun’s mouth.  
  
  
  
  
Baekhyun finds himself near the town centre again on a chilly evening, where the sun has set and the moon is slightly covered by the clouds, on the outskirts where you could also see the stars behind the streetlamps. There’s shops instead of stalls, stacked side by side and decorated with foldable tents and big, thin windows.

He passes by them in a dark red suit, the collar of the jacket covered by a scarf that matches the black coat and gloves he’s wearing. His footsteps are rhythmic against the pathway, like the muffled tune he’s humming under his breath, until he comes to a stop outside one particular shop.

The display behind the window is lined up with pots covered in crystals and old jewellery boxes decorated with jewels, a miniature umbrella covered in cherry blossoms made up of sequins and other things that stand alone and shine under the dim lighting of the store – an antique store, he notices.

_Park and Pearls._

The little bell placed above the front door rings quietly in the almost empty store as Baekhyun steps in. He shrugs off his coat and peers around the tables full of lamps and trophies, at the stack of hats on another, stepping further into the place as he spots the front counter. And also the person behind it.

“Are you following me?” Baekhyun questions once he spots Chanyeol leaning against the counter, seated behind the till. He’s got his chin resting in his palm and his fingers are drumming against his jaw. Baekhyun feels his shoulders drop at the sight and his arms hang loosely by his side, but he continues to walk closer, blinking up the windchimes hanging from the ceiling around Chanyeol.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much,” the pianist says, almost falling off the stool as he stands up in surprise, mouth running without thinking, a spark in his eyes, “this is my aunt’s store. Precious, isn’t it? That it’s caught your eye.”

Baekhyun looks stupefied for a second because a man like Chanyeol in such a lovely store seems so out of place – but a man like Chanyeol, he also can’t quite figure out. So, he clears his throat and distracts himself with the marble jars lining the dark wooden table near the front desk. His hands are still covered with his gloves and it catches Chanyeol’s attention for a second too long. The older man speaks, nodding his head at nothing in particular, “of course.”

“What brings you here, Sweetheart?”

“Must you know?” Baekhyun asks, setting the jar full of pale pink powder back in its place. “and I told you. You should not be calling me sweetheart.”

“I don’t have to, yes,” Chanyeol says, whistling under his breath, ignoring half of his words, “but I’d like to. I could help, too. You know, search what you’re looking for.”

“You think you can help me find it?”

It’s a little too teasing, half-full of mirth but somehow also half serious that it has Chanyeol still like he doesn’t understand. Then he’s smiling again, teeth showing and eyes bright like what Baekhyun has said was amusing.

“Anything for a pretty man.”

Like that, with Chanyeol laughing at his own words and Baekhyun quickly shrugging on his coat, hurrying out of the door, the smaller man leaves the store while scowling over his shoulder. He mumbles harshly under his breath and almost bumps into a few tables, and then the ring bells above the door when Chanyeol waves at him to say goodbye with the most silliest grin on his face.  
  
  
  
  
It’s the same stupid grin that greets Baekhyun a few weeks later, when the summer breeze starts to show signs of cold autumn air, when he and Jongin stumble into a quiet café, shivering and wrapped up in thick fur coats and scarves. The tiny droplets of rain against their faces melt and instead they stick to the windows as the ground outside becomes wet. Maybe that’s why people are scurrying out of the stores and off the roads and into their homes, away from the early autumn rain that doesn’t leave once you let it seep into your home.

The café is quiet when they walk in. it’s filled with odd looking furniture, sofas and pillows of all colour, and wallpaper that’s drawn on with blotched ink. the lights hang low over the tables, covered with cardboard lamps that somehow look lovely, Baekhyun thinks as he sits down and melts into the comfy chair. There’s soft music, too, a piano, crooning int his ear like a lullaby that eases the ache in his bones from the cold.

But it’s that stupid grin that he sees when the song stops and Baekhyun eagerly peers around to see who was playing, a compliment on his lips, only for his eyes to land on a hazy looking Chanyeol. He has his eyes closed, pink around the edges from a lack of sleep but also from the warmth of the café, mouth closed as he smiles around an unlit cigarette, and the first few buttons of his shirt undone. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and he grins once his eyes land on the older man – a grin that does make him feel pretty.

Baekhyun is brought out of his reverie as the table next to him clap enthusiastically, and he only notices that it’s Jongdae, Sehun and Kyungsoo when Chanyeol dramatically bows and bounces over to them. Baekhyun swiftly turns around to face Jongin, his mouth parted to run a mile a minute, about how this is getting ridiculous – Park Chanyeol must think that he’s following him. Yet, he finds himself watching, mutely, as his friend sighs, eyes trained on Sehun, who tips his cap at them to say hello.

“You cannot be serious, Jongin.”

“What—I did not do anything!”

Jongin’s face still lights up when Kyungsoo suddenly takes a seat next to him, followed by Jongdae and Sehun coming to their table, and Baekhyun thinks they’re far too close, sitting and waving like they’re old friends. He begins to shuffle slowly on his chair, blinking at the way Jongdae chortles like Jongin said the funniest thing ever and his best friend beams at the compliment.

But Baekhyun doesn’t get very far as he feels himself bump back into something, heavy and wide and seemingly too warm against the fabric of his brown suit. He turns around, only to pull back just as quickly and stumble back into Jongin once he sees Chanyeol looking at him curiously, like he’s wondering if everything is okay but Baekhyun knows – sees the twitch of a smile play on Chanyeol’s face.

The café’s pianist shuffles closer, resting his arms over the back of his chair, voice low and warm just like the jazz that plays softly behind them, “what brings you and your friend – Jongin, right? – here, Sweetheart?”

“Coffee”

“Coffee,” Chanyeol repeats a bit too enthusiastically, all on purpose as Sehun throws a ball of napkins at him and chuckles, “why, Mr Kim right there makes the best coffee you could buy. I’m ordering for the boys; would you like some?”

Baekhyun hates coffee. He had only come to the café because it was the first thing he noticed when stepping off the ship, looking so quaint yet open as it stood between a bakery and the butchers, adorned with big tents and open windows as the notes of a piano had filtered though, loud enough to hear from the decks. A little shop that stood perfectly in front of the water, catching enough sun in the summer and seeing how the rain hits the ocean during fall.

“Thank you, but I can order for myself.” And Baekhyun knows he’s being a little rude, maybe a whole lot, too curt and snobbish, but he feels flustered under Chanyeol’s smile, thinking the handsome boy is probably up to no good.

The taller tilts his head, absentmindedly drumming his fingers across the table and playing with the corners of the napkins that Sehun had thrown at him. He shares a glance with Jongin, who simply shrugs and smiles fondly at Baekhyun as he tries not to sulk, looking out of the tall windows of the coffee shop.

“So be it.” Chanyeol says, clapping his hands together and brushing at the front of his shirt with his hands, pulling at his lopsided suspenders as he gestures for his friend to the front counter, “we’ll be heading off then. It was nice meeting the both of you again. If you ever need any help, just scream for Jongdae.”

“It was nice meeting you, too, Chanyeol. All of you.” Jongin replies, sincere, noticing the way Baekhyun has turned his back on the taller guy, but also eyeing the bright red blush on his cheeks and he fiddles with his hands in his lap. He notices the way Baekhyun doesn’t seem to be breathing, and he waves at the group of boys one last time.

He sees the soft smile on Chanyeol’s face as he waits for Baekhyun, until time ticks by and he chuckles silently instead, only tipping his hat and following the rest of his friends.

And as soon as they’re out of earshot, Baekhyun gasps a little, long intakes of steadying breaths, as he looks over at Jongin and starts laughing. It seems so out of place as he does, laughing into his palms of his hands, his eyes turning into the shapes of a crescent moon and disappearing, his mouth wide open and rectangular. He muffles it under his hands when Jongin joins in, and his friend thinks he hasn’t seen Baekhyun laugh so loudly, so heartedly that he fails to hide his reddening face.

“You were so horrible, Baek! The poor boy just wanted to buy you coffee.”

“Buy me coffee?” Baekhyun gasps out, incredulous even, laughter still bubbling through his lips but softer than before as he takes off his gloves, stuffs them into the pockets of his slacks and rubs under his eyes with his fingers. “I think I would have passed out from how stupidly fast my heart was beating before the coffee got to me.”  
When they both calm down, enjoying the notes of the trombone behind them, the glow of the setting sun colouring the café in oranges and yellows, Jongin sighs and looks over at Baekhyun, amused.

“So, he had you heart beating that fast, did he?”

“Oh, shut it, Jongin.”  
  
  
  
  
“Are you walking your friend home, Chanyeol.”

Baekhyun hadn’t expected Parks and Pearls to be the place Jongin had been gushing about over dinner, going on and on about some pocket watches that had caught his gaze when walking through town. I could have been why he didn’t refuse to accompany Jongin to this ‘adorable little store’.

He didn’t expect his best friend to drag him into the same store he had decided not to step foot in again, almost hauling his smaller self inside. Neither did he think he was going to stumble right into a petite looking lady, eyes huge behind her thick glasses and hair curly and everywhere. She had held him by the arm, gasping, asking if he’s okay before yelling at a laughing Chanyeol to be quiet.

He soon figured out she was the aunt of the store, Ms Park with her mismatched dresses and boots, insisting that Baekhyun and Jongin sit down for a cup of tea.

“You should walk him home.”

Baekhyun beings to stammer, his protests dying down as quickly as they had started. He sends the bubbly woman a little smile, unsure, only for it to drop when he notices Sehun and Jongdae snickering behind her, loitering around a desk of used chairs that they had towed in from outside. Yet, he finds himself ushered out of the front door after slipping into his coat, made to wait as Chanyeol puts on his own and wraps a woollen scarf around his neck. Jongin had left earlier when Kyungsoo offered to show them around for a bit, despite Baekhyun glaring at him until he disappeared.

“I do not need to be assisted home.”

“Although, it’s nice, isn’t it?” Chanyeol starts, falling into step with Baekhyun, mouth covered by his scarf as he speaks, “to have company until you get there. To feel safe.”

The older man arches up an eyebrow at this, half amused and half assuming that the other is going to say something stupid. “Is it because a man like me cannot walk themselves home? Oh, no, we cannot have Byun Baekhyun out here all alone at night. What will people think?”

Chanyeol shakes his head, frowning slightly, a little distracted by Baekhyun’s nose twitching under the cold autumn air.

“It’s because I wanted to take you home.”

“Because you find me pretty.”

“If that’s what you want to think,” Chanyeol says with a shrug, “but it’s not. Even though you are. Pretty, that is.”

Baekhyun scoffs but it’s playful, and he thinks he understands, “I am not the slightest bit pretty, Park Chanyeol.”

It goes unheard under the night sky, the city still bustling with sounds as the stores close up, and it’s place comes the sound of saxophones and of people crooning inside the bars. They walk in silence until they arrive at Baekhyun’s quiet neighbourhood. And even though he’s familiar with the district, from all the times Jongdae had called him in the middle of the evenings to come and join them, Chanyeol still marvels at the sight of tall buildings and large windows. At the sight of the moon being seen so clearly from where he stands, and he laughs at the beauty of it all. He laughs as he looks down at Baekhyun, even if the smaller man stares at him curiously, like he’s slowly starting to lose his mind.

“Here we are.”

And Chanyeol doesn’t expect the little laugh coming from Baekhyun, dumbfounded by the soft smile, when he teasingly asks, “want me to help you climb up that vine?”

“I am a good boy, Park.” Baekhyun says, his smile wistful as he looks up at the front porch where a small lamp illuminates the steps.

Chanyeol kisses his teeth, so sure as he says, “one day you’ll be sneaking out just to meet me. Vines and all.”

“Oh? How bold of you to say?”

With that, Baekhyun leaves Chanyeol at the bottom of his porch, breathless and smiling.  
  
  
  
  
It is absurd, Baekhyun thinks, when he finds himself back in Parks and Pearls a week or so later, where the sun has long set, and the streetlamps are just as dim as the lighting in the room. Kyungsoo and Sehun are milling around the front desk, flicking marbles to each other at the bell above the front door rings, but with no customer in sight. It’s only Jongin walking in, dressed to the nines in a bright, crimson coloured suit and leather shoes, slipping out of his woollen coat as he looks at Baekhyun, bemused.

“This is where you have been this entire time? You missed Captain Yixing’s dinner.”

That’s when the marbles still, when Chanyeol looks up from where he’s taping prices onto a few jewellery boxes – a little chipped but embellished with curved lines and crystals – they received in the morning. Jongdae stands there, too, not too far behind him and raises his eyebrows to tease.

Baekhyun distracts himself with a loose thread hanging from the ends of his glove, short and made out of blue lace this time. “I- I was not feeling well this morning, so I came here instead for some peace and quiet.”

“Peace and quiet? Here?” Chanyeol chuckles, thumbing at a dent in one of the boxes where a crystal must have fell out, but his eyes are heavy lidded and his eyebrows are furrowed, concentrated as he takes out one of the compartments to repaint later. “You just came here to see me.”

“You wish.”

And when Chanyeol finally steals a glimpse and shares a wink, Baekhyun huffs loudly and stomps towards the other side of the long store, ignoring the younger man.

“I do, Sweetheart.”

“He isn’t that bad.” Jongdae assures, wiping down a nearby dressing table before flipping the cloth over his shoulder and walking over to the curious looking man, as Baekhyun sits on the cushioned stool. The two of them then steal a glance at Jongin teaching Sehun how to write with a feather and pots of ink they found in the back room when they share a giggle.

“Boy has had his heart broken a few times; it’s why he’s such a flirt.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, catching on quickly, because he knows who Jongdae is talking about, knows that he probably plays his part as Park Chanyeol’s right hand man when it comes to making people swoon.

“A flirt?” He asks instead, lips set in a thin line to stop himself from snorting.

“Nothing too serious. Many would just say he’s charming, and maybe he is, you know. I’d say he just gives up his heart a smidge too easily.”

“Right.”

Jongdae juts out his hip then, leaning his arms across the top of the only piano in the store, as Baekhyun smooths his fingertips over the keys, accidentally playing a few notes. He’s listening, though, as the other shorter man whines, “you’re the only one he’s called sweetheart, I admit. So, there’s no reason to be too jealous.”

The fingers still and Baekhyun’s eyes flare, “excuse me? I am not jealous. Not at all, Jongdae!”

“Who’s jealous.” Sehun cuts in, mouth full of bread he must have stolen from the back room, offering some and shrugging when he’s shoved away from the piano by Jongdae, stumbling back soon after to stand even closer.

“Mr Byun. He just refuses to acknowledge it.”

“I told you. I am not jealous!” Baekhyun insists, but Jongdae just waves him off and Sehun nods in agreement.

“Keep telling yourself that.”  
  
  
  
  
Marble floors and high ceilings, Jongin still admires the sight of the Byun resident, just as grand as his own but refurbished in a way that it feels more like a showroom than a home. A place that’s not meant to be lived in for too long. Still, he looks up at the dangling chandelier, made of little crystals and many lights, from where he’s sitting beside the open patio doors. The sun is mellow, soft, as he glances around, taking in the long mirrors and white vases for some flowers. His eyes fall onto a handful of baby breaths against some roses that seem oddly in place.

It isn’t long before Baekhyun is walking up the stairs in the garden and through the wide patio doors, heaving as he takes a seat on one of the white chairs.

Jongin gaze is questioning, taking in his loose shirt, his breeches and his bare hands, only a thin bracelet around his wrist and nothing more.

“One would think you are avoiding someone.” Jongin starts, stuffing his fourth macaron into his mouth, earning a look of disgust from his friend as the crumbs fall over the front of his shirt. “I have been waiting two hours for you; I have asked everyone where you were, but they had no clue.”

Baekhyun hands Jongin a napkin from a nearby table as he explains, “I went for a run.”

“To avoid your mother, right?”

“No, I…”

Jongin puts down his half-eaten macaron, dabs at his mouth with the napkin and sighs, giving his friend a stern look – a little disapproving and somewhat pitiful. It has Baekhyun looking away and focusing on the swinging hammock in the garden. But he looks troubled and starts worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and Jongin knows and so does he.

“Why can you not just say no?”

“She would be disappointed,” Baekhyun states quickly, like the thought of doing that alone is impossible, only causing his frown to deepen, “when I have always agreed to doing this. If I say no now, she would not just be upset, Jongin. She would- she would be devastated. She has been setting me up for this almost my entire life. I cannot just say no.”

Jongin’s eyes flare in disbelief, not quite believing what Baekhyun is saying – his best friend, who is usually so hard-headed that nothing could convince him or sway his thoughts. But Baekhyun sits there, shoulders slouched and rubbing at his eyes, far from how poised he sits in parties or even empty cafes. Jongin’s words are muffled as he speaks, exasperated and low so the kitchen maids can’t hear them, “so you are okay with leaving Seoul for who knows how long, possibly never returning to settle in a place you have never been to?”

“What is so wrong with that?” Baekhyun throws, defensive, abruptly sitting up and crossing his arms over his chest.

Jongin sulks, “do not tell me you are okay with marrying a man you have never met before just because your mother is telling you to.”

That’s when Baekhyun’s eyes shutter, droopy and blinking furiously, like he’s trying to collect all of his thoughts, mouth moving but thinking of no words to say, and Jongin knows – he knows it’s not what Baekhyun wants.

But the older man brushes away his lost thoughts, and instead he looks angry, scowl taut and posture so still, but the wetness of his eyes go noticed even as he looks away. He opens his mouth to speak but Jongin cuts in again.

“What about Chanyeol?”

The name rings heavily in the air and Baekhyun snaps his head up, returning Jongin’s curious stare with a questioning one of his own.

“What about him?”

“The boy clearly likes you. A lot. You cannot lead him on like this and not tell him that you are not here for long, that you are to be married to another man.” Jongin explains, and he says it so casually that Baekhyun feels the heat crawling up behind his ears and onto his cheeks, feels his head explode with unwanted thoughts as he stands up from his chair and glowers down at the other.

“I am doing no such thing. It is not my fault if he likes me, nor is it his business to know what goes on in my life.”

Usually, Jongin would be staring at Baekhyun bug eyed, always scolded for saying things without thinking but cooed over when his best friend thinks he’s being childish. But this time, Jongin only scoffs, and it confuses the smaller man for a second or two, before he’s grabbing another cream coloured macaron.

“Is that so?”

Baekhyun nods, furious. “Absolutely.”

“Maybe it is not your fault, or your responsibility, if he likes you,” Jongin expresses, his voice growing louder as Baekhyun begins to walk away, stomping noisily up the stairs that it has a few of the older maids staring at him, entertained. “But you cannot tell me you do not want him hurt because of you.”

Baekhyun trips in his steps, stopping at the landing of the stairs as he leans over the bannister and speaks loud enough for Jongin to hear, unaware of his mother coming in through the front door,

“Well, I—you—you are so annoying!”

“See!” Jongin yells back, and his voice doesn’t falter when he spot the woman standing at the bottom of the stairs. He smiles, mischievous and friendly. “You may act like you do not care but that boy means something to you, Byun!”  
  
  
  
  
A Sunday morning, three weeks later, finds Chanyeol sulking, albeit playful, as he brushes away the teasing comments his friends make from behind him. “Why must you hide your pretty hands, Mr Byun?”

“What is it with you and my hands?” Baekhyun wonders, looking at him distastefully before narrowing his eyes at Sehun and Jongdae, the two of them hiding their chortles into the sleeves of their shirts. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes behind them but he laughs along, too, and Baekhyun begins to think that they’re too much of a bad influence on Jongin. “I have never shown you them, so what would you know?”

And Chanyeol says it like it’s the most obvious thing ever, so sure of himself, “a pretty face must have pretty hands.”

“The best to throttle you with, Park.” Jongdae mocks, only for him to straighten up and cough into a closed fist as he catches Baekhyun glaring at him.

“Are you so vain that you are only interested in people you find pretty.” Baekhyun asks, and it has Chanyeol choking on his own spit, waving his hands in front of his face – because that’s not what he meant.

“Being pretty is subjective, Sweetheart.” Chanyeol muses, playing with the creases of his shirt, bottom lip jutting out when he notices another missing button. He grumbles to himself, concentrated, not aware of the blank look Baekhyun is giving him. “It just so happens that I find you particularly pretty.”

“If I was not pretty to you, what then?”

“You are.” Chanyeol claims, so resolute, as if there’s nothing to argue about, fixing Baekhyun with a stare. He sighs when the older man walks away, thinking he must not believe a word that comes out of his mouth, but he misses the prominent flustered look on Baekhyun’s face entirely. Jongdae grimaces and walks away, moving to the back of the store to bother Kyungsoo, and ignoring Baekhyun’s protests for him to come right back. Chanyeol busies himself once again and Baekhyun listens. “I find you pretty. I find you handsome. And it’s all in the way you hold yourself, Mr Byun. Is it so bad that I do.”

_Not so much._

“Absolutely.”  
  
  
  
  
The little squeak that slips past Baekhyun’s mouth has Kyungsoo looking up at him from where he was doodling on a napkin, has Sehun stopping midway as he holds Jongdae’s head in-between his arms, wrestling over the first coffee cup Minseok had set on their table. It has Jongin beaming even wider as he slides a piece of paper further away from himself, and across the table, but Baekhyun can clearly see the letters etched onto it, neat and bold.

_Lover boy is staring at you again_

Without meaning to, Baekhyun quickly looks over at Chanyeol and watches the man’s chin fall off his palm, suddenly whistling a familiar tune as he focuses on the hanging lights like they’re the most fascinating thing ever. Baekhyun watches with a blank look on his face, lips pursed, as the pianist pretends to catch his gaze and smile widely. He locks his hands behind his head and leans back into his chair, as if he hadn’t been caught staring.

But it’s when Chanyeol catches a glimpse of the napkin sitting further away from Jongin, covered in words, that he leans forward and takes it before Baekhyun could comprehend anything. So, it comes as a shock when the older man, who usually sits so poised and tries not to laugh at anything Jongdae says, scrambles over the table and tries snatching the napkin back.

Baekhyun hears Jongin burst out into a guffaw behind him, Sehun soon joining by clapping his hands, but he ignores it all.

“Chanyeol, give it back,” Kyungsoo’s voice is gruff, but he doesn’t look up from his doodles. It only prompts the pianist to lean further back into his seat, turns to his side and the brings the napkin so close to his eyes that it has Baekhyun blabbering.

“It—it is not what- stop reading it!”

Chanyeol squints at Jongin’s handwriting, his smile infuriating, as he attempts to mouth some of the words.

Groaning at this, Jongdae pinches Sehun’s waist, frees himself from the boy’s arms and leans over to snatch the napkin, looking between a blushing Baekhyun and Chanyeol, who raises it higher and out of reach.

Except,

“He can’t read.”

“Excuse me?”

“Park here can’t read. Just knows about his name and numbers.”

Baekhyun grows dubious, slowly falling back into his own seat as Chanyeol scowls at Jongdae, scrunching up another piece of napkin to throw at the guy. That’s when Jongin also notices Sehun squinting at the words, too, trying to sound out the letters he doesn’t recognise, only shrugging when Kyungsoo looks at him expectantly.

“You do not know how to read?” Baekhyun asks quietly. They shake their heads in unison, like schoolboys who haven’t done their homework. He turns to Chanyeol, who sits there wide eyed, almond eyes shimmering like they do under the dim lights of the café, always rimmed with red from staying out all night. “then how do you play the piano? Surely you have to read the notes.”

Chanyeol simply taps his ears, and Baekhyun notices just how big there are, adorably so, with the tips pinched slightly. “I play by ear, Sweetheart."

"Impressive, huh?” Jongdae cuts in with a snort before Baekhyun could reply, gesturing towards what Jongin had written, with the ends of his lips curled up into a smirk, “just like how you’re teaching yourself to read so you can write Mr Byun love letters.”

If it wasn’t for Chanyeol’s face falling and him trying to reach over the table to grab a hold of Jongdae’s shirt collar, raising his hands into a fist towards his shorter friend, Baekhyun would have laughed. But he doesn’t. He just stares at Chanyeol incredulously, as the latter sits back down and rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“That cannot be true.” Baekhyun whispers, unbelieving.

Chanyeol clears his throat, grumbling, “not love letters per say. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were.”

The fluttering inside Baekhyun’s chest feels heavy, that he doesn’t notice the soft smile his own face, doesn’t even realise the others staring at him with toothy grins of their own, cooing at him, words like lover boy going over his head. And Chanyeol catches him smiling, unaware that he’s noticed, letting the blush grow over the apples of his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. It’s only when the pianist chuckles does Baekhyun quickly looks away and begins distracting himself with the coffee stains on the wooden table.

He still scowls at nothing and mumbles, “it would not be bad. It would be ridiculous.”

With that, the night sky darkens and Jongin points out the car waiting for them, taking too long to say goodbye as Baekhyun ushers for him to hurry up. So, he doesn’t see it coming when Jongdae pulls the both of them into a smothering hug, or when Sehun and Kyungsoo join in. Someone ends up ruffling his hair and he stumbles forward, earning laughs here and there. Too red in the face and being pulled back by Jongin, Baekhyun forgets his coat hanging on the back of his chair. It’s too late when Chanyeol picks it up and calls out after him.

“Hey, Sweetheart, you forgot… this.”  
  
  
  
  
“You sure you’re not jealous?”

Baekhyun rests his palm on top of the front desk, pen stilling as he fills in the numbers, having offered to help Ms Park with her accounts because no one else know how to. Sehun and Jongdae stood next to him, skittish as they take glimpses of the scene taking place at the store front.

Miss Kang is there in a purple coloured dress and a cream coat, pearls around her hair and neck, sitting on one of the stools with her legs crossed and a hand waving around the room like she owns the place. She catches the three of them staring and she smirks as Baekhyun lets his gaze fall onto the tea and the plate of biscuits placed on the empty table beside her. He ignores Jongin, although, who stands near some lamps, fidgeting around in his spot, teeth nibbling at the corner of his mouth because Baekhyun hasn’t look away ever since she walked in.

  
Just as he parts his lips to speak, feeling somewhat haughty and ignoring the displeased look his best friend sends his way, all eyes divert to Chanyeol as the tall man skips out of the back room with boxes full of bracelets. He doesn’t spare Baekhyun a glance. The smaller mumbles quietly. Chanyeol looks excited, suspiciously so, especially as he rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, a surprised Miss Kang suddenly pointing at a few of his pretty tattoos. Her giggle tinkers off the walls and Baekhyun makes a face, watching silently while Chanyeol brings up another stool and sits right beside her.

Only Jongin notices Kyungsoo rolling his eyes at Chanyeol, after they both had noticed the tick of Baekhyun’s jaw and his hand clenched around the pen.

“I am sure Miss Kang can look for herself.” Baekhyun suddenly exclaims, startling everyone, especially Chanyeol, while the mentioned women looks over at him slowly, her tinkering laughter greeting him again.

“She could,” Chanyeol starts, smile a little forced, and the sight of it makes Baekhyun scoff. “But I am sure she would like the help of an expert.”

The taller turns back to his customer, friendly, eyes lidded as he smiles, bringing out a little blush as he brings out another pair of bangles.

“Don’t mind Mr Byun. He probably wants these bangles for himself.”

Baekhyun’s lips pull into a mirthless smile. The twitch of his eye becomes visible as daylight as he huffs loudly whenever Miss Kang says something to gain a hearty laugh from Chanyeol. To which he could fake a laugh just as high pitched, and immediately stop when catching Jongin’s disapproving stare. But the heat of the embarrassment had overwhelmed him, slender neck and full cheeks painted pink because he had no clue as why to Chanyeol is being like this. There’s also an unfamiliar ache at the pit of his stomach, like he’s been waved off and dismissed. Yet, he doesn’t acknowledge the feeling and brushes off Jongdae’s grin, looking away.

It’s when Miss Kang collects her four bags of bangles and jewellery boxes, a pair of earrings thrown in there as a complimentary gift, that Chanyeol opens the front door and stares bewildered when Baekhyun shoves past him. The bell above rings loudly in the store and he’s already walking off down the lane, passing the other quaint stores in a hurry.

Chanyeol stutters, quickly sharing a look with his friends, who gesture for him to follow, that they’re here to run the store. So, he laughs in disbelief and runs after Baekhyun, forgetting his cap and his jacket hanging on the coat rack.

“Hey, hey, what was that all about?”

Baekhyun complains loudly to himself when he looks over his shoulder and sees Chanyeol not too far behind, his long legs taking slow strides but still managing to catch up to Baekhyun, even though the older man himself had hurried past every corner he could find. He doesn’t know where he’s going, and the clouds seem to grey over his head, so he sighs a breath of relief into the collar of his coat because now he’s not too lost. Still, he whines and turns around to face Chanyeol, but the younger man continues walking past him, and Baekhyun quickly falls into step, confused and a little miffed.

“Mind telling me why you just walked out like that?”

Baekhyun feels Chanyeol’s shoulder against his, feels the warmth even through his coat, so he bumps back into him and glares, “oh, you noticed? Thought you were too busy with Miss Kang.”

The pianist throws his head back, clutching onto his stomach, and Baekhyun thinks he’s a bit stupid, even as he comes to a stop and just watches him laugh. He thinks they should get going soon, feels the slight drops of rain of his face and on his hands, seeping in through his laced gloves, but he thinks Chanyeol’s a bit stupid and that it’s all his fault.

“You’re jealous because I had to tend to a customer.”

“I am not jealous!” Baekhyun shouts, fumbling around because Chanyeol has stopped laughing and he doesn’t know where to look anymore, at the ground, at his shoes, anywhere but at the taller man, who smiles like he knows. “I cannot be jealous. I am mad that you spent all that time, so cosy and close to darling Miss Kang, to sell her a box of bangles. Most of us did not have to see that.”

Chanyeol blinks down at Baekhyun in surprise, voice a deep timbre as he says, “no one told you to watch, Sweetheart.”

“Yeah? Well, that is quite hard to do when all you do is flirt with anyone you see.”

“Flirt,” The younger man repeats, like he’s astonished and being accused of something he’s never done. Standing on a step leading to a red chipped foor, almost like it’s squashed in-between the barbers a paint shop, he opens it to reveal a set of stairs. Baekhyun knows he shouldn’t follow, but he does after Chanyeol leaves it open for him, toeing off his shoes as he does. “Do you really think that’s all I do, Mr Byun?”

By the time Baekhyun carefully climbs up the steep stairs and reaches the landing to find an open apartment, a bed, a singular sofa with the kitchen standing behind, and one singular door that must lead to the bathroom, he finds Chanyeol standing next to another set of doors with big windowpanes.

“Is it not? You must have found Miss Kang very pretty.” Chanyeol doesn’t seem to be listening as Baekhyun pauses and shrugs out of his jacket, ready to place it across the back of a chair but only to freeze in place when he spots a familiar looking fur coat neatly folded on top of it. And so, he doesn’t notice Chanyeol stealing a glance at him, lop sided smile on his lips, fond before he’s narrowing his eyes at the grey clouds outside, at the rain that comes down heavily.

“I did find her pretty,” Chanyeol agrees, his words almost washed out by the loud sounds of the rain falling outside, as Baekhyun listens, “but she isn’t the one I like.”

People scurry into any open store, disappearing under the tents as the rain grows heavier, and the lights suddenly flicker in the small apartment. A muffled curse is the only sound when it finally gives out and leaves the room darker than it was, with the rattling off the boiler behind the walls.

“Oh, hell, it looks like a storm.” Chanyeol exclaims, hurriedly closing the glass doors to the balcony, squinting against the few raindrops that had managed to get in and dampen the carpet a little. He stands there for a while, just watching the puddles of water near the streetlamps, watches his neighbours fold down the tents over their shops and hears the soft crooning off flutes nearby that almost drown beneath the rain. He just stares, hands in his pockets and leant against the frame of the door. Until he hears Baekhyun behind him, shuffling, muttering his name softly in the dimly lit room.

“I don’t think the rain will let up anytime soon. Your mother must be worrying about where you are… Mr Byun?” He trails off, calling out his name as he turns around.

The older man stands in the middle of Chanyeol’s one room apartment, small and clean, glowing under the evening light that seeps in through the big windowpanes. And even though the cracks in the walls show, and even if the single rocking chair against a wooden table looks a little lonely, Baekhyun seems to fit right in as he looks up at Chanyeol, gaze imploring and eyes bright. Catching his bottom lip under his teeth, he waits.

Then he starts walking closer, leather shoes so pristine and shiny, loud against the floorboards, and Chanyeol doesn’t have a clue. He doesn’t understand, until he feels the other’s warm breath in the hollow of his neck, where the skin is golden and exposed behind his cream coloured shirt, where his Adam’s apple moves as he visibly gulps, and Baekhyun finally peers up at him.

“Baekhyun?”

The first kiss lands on Chanyeol’s jaw, warm and feathery, barely there. Another at the corner of his mouth, just as soft. He soon feels Baekhyun’s hands pressed up against his chest, pushing until the man feels the firm torso underneath, feels the muted thumps of his fastening heartbeat, before he’s grabbing handfuls of his shirt.

Chanyeol blinks, stupefied and a whole lot surprised, only moving his hands when Baekhyun stands on his tiptoes and finally kisses him on the mouth, lips parted, soft breaths warm on his. It’s tentative at first, and then Baekhyun is pushing deeper, mouth hot against Chanyeol’s to a point that he finds himself leaning his entire body into the pianist’s, whimpers as he feels the younger man’s hands at the small of his back. Like that, Chanyeol is kissing back, angling his face so his lips melt against Baekhyun’s and their noses, cold from the rain, bump once, twice. And then he dips down again to leave behind open mouthed kisses.

“More, more.” Baekhyun whispers in a hurry, even though it’s storming outside and the night has barely begun.

His hands smooth over Chanyeol’s broad shoulders, towards the front of his shirt where he fiddles with the buttons. But he grows impatient and Chanyeol notices, so the taller man starts walking, taking him backwards, floorboards now creaking under both their footsteps. They walk until they’re tripping over each other and tumbling into the mattress. Chanyeol doesn’t think twice, or at all, when he climbs further up the bed and suddenly pushes himself forward, rubbing into the front of Baekhyun’s navy coloured slacks.

Chanyeol grunts as Baekhyun begins to leave kisses along his jaw, soon reaching his neck and sucking at the prominent Adam’s apple there. He wraps a leg around Chanyeol’s waist as he does so, canting his hips up, seeking for friction, pressing the taller man down by digging the heel of his foot into the dip of his back,

All you hear is soft suckling noises against the harsh rain, loud in Chanyeol’s small apartment, along with the slight creaking of the springs in the mattress as the pianist lifts up the same leg wrapped around his waist and presses it against chest, bending him in half and rutting his own clothed member onto Baekhyun’s.

Their thrust turn messy, exhilarating. And as Baekhyun breaths come out in short gasps, cool against the skin of Chanyeol’s neck, who has his face buried into the pillow beneath them, the clanking of undone belts join the rain.

The thoughts turn just as frantic, too, and Baekhyun would have never thought he’d be in such a situation with another man – not Chanyeol – but his moans come out in mewls, his knees buckling as he wraps both his legs around Chanyeol’s hips, burying his hands into the man’s soft hair. Like that, he rocks back onto Chanyeol’s clothed hardness, feeling how heavy it is through his thin slacks. Baekhyun knows his shirt is wrinkled, his jacket discarded onto the floor, his shoes scattered somewhere, but he just revels in the way Chanyeol takes his mouth into another kiss, so molten and so slow, all inside a tiny apartment and drowned out by the rain.

“It’s- it’s you who I like, Sweetheart. I like you, a lot.”  
  
  
  
  
Chanyeol whistles at the sight of white pillars and long balconies, hands buried into the back pockets of his trousers as he cranes his head up to spot the wide set of balcony doors Baekhyun had told him about. He soon becomes distracted by the scenery, making a face at the nearby pond that he almost falls into because it’s the middle of the night and the moon isn’t full. But he soon stumbles on a path of tiny pebbles and picks up a handful. So, he does the only thing that comes to mind, and carefully throws the pebbles at the frame of the glass doors.

What greets him is an annoyed looking Baekhyun, who quickly glances around to see what kind of intruder is trying to break his windows, only for his nostrils to flare and his eyes to widen when he spots a sheepish looking Chanyeol in the backyard of his house. He finds him there, standing right in front of the patio doors, the warm light of the living room faint on his tanned skin, and Baekhyun knows that all it would take is his mother opening up the curtains to see a stranger trying to climb up the only oak tree they have in their backyard.

“Are you stupid?” Baekhyun yells in a hushed whisper, leaning over his balcony with his hands holding on tightly to the bannister. He feels the chill of the winter air on his skin, through his thin pyjama shirt, hair in his face, his nose pink as he scrunches it up slightly as he shivers. But the burning of his cheeks is warm – embarrassed or flustered, he doesn’t know.

“Hello to you, too Sweetheart.” Chanyeol responds a little too loudly, wincing when he realises just how loud, yet he still leaps onto the balcony and stumbles into the warms of a worried looking Baekhyun. The worry falls off his face when he pulls back and finds Chanyeol grinning down at him, eyes sparkling like they always do – and up to no good.

It’s there against his lips, that handsome smile that widens when he tiptoes to cup Chanyeol’s face to return the soft kiss. He sighs at Chanyeol’s hands pressing into his back, huge and heavy, and so comforting, and his thumbs rubbing circles into his skin.

“Aren’t we a little eager,” Chanyeol teases, pulling back, soft at the sight of Baekhyun pouting as he busies himself with the collar of the taller man’s shirt, “some may think you like me.”

And Baekhyun thinks Chanyeol is stupid – he must be – so he brings a hand up to pinch at the other’s right ear, huffing under his breath as he says, “do you think I would be kissing someone I do not like?”

“So you like me, huh.”

“Unfortunately.”

Baekhyun suddenly yelps as Chanyeol tickles at his sides, burying his face into the front of the other’s shirt as he starts walking them backwards into his bedroom. Chanyeol stares in wonder with shimmering eyes, takes in the four posted bed fitted with lilac coloured curtains on either side, tied together at the posts. He takes in the soft carpet underneath his boots, the dressing table that sits in the corner and the detailed paintings hanging on the walls, some placed against one another as if there isn’t enough space for the endless amount.

Chanyeol looks down at Baekhyun, and he thinks he’s the prettiest picture yet as they land on the bed, laughing to himself when he realises he’s being a whole lot sappy, only shaking his head when the latter looks up him questioningly. They stay like that, the moon still and the night still dark, with Baekhyun carding his fingers in through Chanyeol’s hair, growing overwhelmed as he feels the heavy beating of the other’s chest against his own.

_Maybe this is what love feels like._

_No, that cannot be._

“Baekhyun! Are you sleeping, Dear?”

Chanyeol leaps out of bed and falls to the floor the same time Baekhyun scurries out of bed and fixes his hair. In a haste, he opens his bedroom door just a crack and finds his mother standing there, in her sleeping robes with a glass of champagne in her hands and a look of confusion on her face.

“Did you hear that thud a while ago?” She asks, trying to per into his bedroom as he shuffles in his spot, tone suspicious, “was it you?”

Baekhyun blinks, thinking, “I… I was cleaning out my shoe boxes. Yes, that is it! I must have knocked down a pile while I was sorting them out. Thinking of… giving them away.”

“Oh! Well, do not stay up too long. We have your suit fitting tomorrow. Your big day will be here sooner than you think.” With that, Mrs Byun claps her hands, plants a kiss on her son’s forehead and strolls down the hallway to disappear into one of the many rooms.

  
The thud of Baekhyun hitting his head against the door once is closes shut is loud in his quiet room. He tries to will down the sudden lump in his throat and the incessant banging of his head. Baekhyun understands what his mother meant, and he thinks he’s selfish for hoping that Chanyeol hasn’t heard – that he doesn’t understand. It lingers as Baekhyun hears the pianist clear his throat from behind him, not noticing the way his shoulders slump in relief and his hands have stopped crumpling up the helm of his silk shirt.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what you could possibly like about someone like me.” Baekhyun questions, and the silence that greets him has him squeezing his eyes shut, nibbling at his bottom lip, somewhat restless.

“Ever since I saw you get off that ship, you were the prettiest thing I had ever seen.” Chanyeol suddenly exclaims.

Baekhyun thinks he has that stupid grin on his face again, and he does when he finally turns around and sees the tall man leaning against one of his cabinets, fiddling with little pots filled with red powder. Too intrigued, he doesn’t notice Baekhyun standing beside him until the older man dabs his thumb into the pot and gently pats it along Chanyeol’s plush bottom lip, staining it a lovely red. And he looks so awed, so pretty under the moonlight as he laughs.

“Am I not pretty anymore?”

Chanyeol shakes his head, licking along his bottom lip and tasting the copper of the red powdered lipstick. “You’re beautiful.”

Baekhyun looks at him, wrinkling his nose just a little, because he doesn’t make any sense, looking just as stupid as the pianist when he breaks out into a smile. “What’s the difference?”

“I have no idea,” Chanyeol says, and suddenly he feels like he’s out of breath, “but you’re just so beautiful.”  
  
  
  
  
“Is that Mr Byun kissing Chanyeol?!”

No one has any idea how Jongdae yells that loud enough for the two hear his shrill voice through the front window of the antique store, and jump apart, only to sigh breaths of relief when they notice just who had spotted them. Kyungsoo walks in and spares them a glance, acknowledging with a nod, before Sehun follows in after and shares a grin with Chanyeol.

It’s only Jongdae who stands at the front door, mouth agape and shocked, looking between the two with exaggerated blinks. As if he wasn’t the one trying to play Cupid this entire time.

“Since when?” He demands, hand flying to his chest only for a second, before he’s waving it at them dramatically, “you know what, don’t tell me. Who knows what other secrets you’re hiding from me.”

He saunters past them and to the back of the store, wordlessly picking up a box of used records, slyly glancing over his shoulders with a smile. Chanyeol catches him looking, and he schools his face into a blank expression.

The winter goes by at Parks and Pearls, barricading the front entrance with snow until Sehun and Chanyeol wake up at early hours of the day to shovel it away. Baekhyun visits become frequent, sometimes finding Jongin already there with his sleeves rolled up and the jacket of his suit discarded to help lift up some few boxes to the back. His best friend notices the way Baekhyun would bounce in through the entrance, eager, earning a few curious glances from Ms Park as she spots Chanyeol turning bright red whenever he’d notice Baekhyun sitting on the stool.

She would only nod when Chanyeol asks to finish for the day, ushering him out as he drags an unexpected Baekhyun along, with all their friends scurrying behind them. Sehun would be the last one to leave, kissing Ms Park on the cheek and getting whacked with a napkin in return, much like he does to his mother whenever she waits for him to return home.

On those days, they would all find themselves sitting on the peer near the beach, letting their legs dangle of the edge, ice-creams in their hands. Sometimes on the hose day, Baekhyun would take off his gloves and stuff them into the pockets of his slacks, just so he could intertwine his hand with Chanyeol’s, sticky from the cream but warm, like an anchor as he’d lean over a little too much and see the sea crashing beneath their feet.

“You have to tell your mother you can’t get married.” Jongin reminds him, as they line up to buy some corn while the others sit on a stone wall not to far behind. His lips set into a thin line as Baekhyun nods his head, his mind seemingly miles away. So, he ruffles his shorter friend’s hair, smile sad, and whispers, “tell her no. You do not want to break his heart.”

On most days, they’d find an empty club, instruments set in place and the lights still on, before Chanyeol finds a piano and leaps over to it to play some keys. When Junmyeon walks into the place and finds them, he scolds Sehun for climbing on top of a table. Then he takes over and plays a song they all know too well. Like that, Chanyeol holds Baekhyun close and dips him down, laughing as the older man shrieks in surprise but still falls into step with him, dancing like it’s something they’ve always done.

“Slow done there, Mr Byun. Some may think you’re in love with Park.”

 _And maybe he is._  
  
  
  
  
“For you.”

Chanyeol stares at the ring in the middle of his palm, a silver band with the tiniest crystals embellished into it. When he looks up to question Baekhyun, he finds the smaller man avoiding his eyes, gazing up the ceiling with the brightest blush on his cheeks, whistling a tune that Chanyeol can’t recognise. He had gotten up from where he was sitting beside the balcony doors, peering at him shyly while the taller fixes a record player his aunt had given him, head in his hands and droopy eyes intently staring. Now he sits on the edge of the mattress, like he hadn’t taken Chanyeol hand in his and wordlessly gave him a ring.

“For me?” Chanyeol asks, taking it in-between his fingers, wondering if Baekhyun had just found it at the store.

The older man leans back onto his hands, sitting so casually that Chanyeol would have thought nothing of it if Baekhyun wasn’t trying to fight the smile off his face. His mouth twists and turns and Chanyeol stares amused.

“From me.” He simply says.

“From you?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes at this, playful, and then he’s nodding his head eagerly.

“Now, do not go thinking anything else,” he starts, suddenly hesitating, fidgeting with his fingers, not knowing what to say, “that ring, it is my great grandmother’s, given to her by my great grandfather the day he had realised he is in love. She kept it, of course, but decided to keep it as a family heirloom and pass it down the generations.”

“Oh?” is all Chanyeol says, eyes fond as Baekhyun’s voice grows louder, excited to share this story with him.

“A swimmer, my great grandfather was. Dived right into the oceans just to find crystals like these, said they were buried deep in the sand, the prettiest he had ever seen.” Baekhyun pauses, and absentmindedly, he shares a smile with the pianist. “I had forgotten about it until I found it that night, just as you had left. I remembered he told me that I will know when the time comes, to give someone the ring myself. And so… so here it is.”

Chanyeol whistles, taken aback, dubious even, as he rolls the ring around in his hand, entranced by the way the ring catches the soft sunlight streaming in through his windows. But even more so as the hopeful look on his lover’s face. He sits there and wonders, “then why are you giving it to me?”

It’s when Baekhyun fixes him with a stare, so intent and knowing that he somehow understands.

“Why do you think, Park Chanyeol?”

And Baekhyun thinks back to the day when grandma Byun had been standing outside in the front yard, peering up at the stars like she understands, the wrinkles around her face growing deeper when she spots Baekhyun near the gates. She forgets who he is – she often does – but that night, she had beckoned him to come closer and remembered his name.

“Baekhyunee, will you not invite your guest in?” She asks, voice frail but bright, shaking her head when her grandson looks up at the house and into the porch for any sight of his mother. “do not worry. She had gone to a friend’s house for the night. Said she will be back tomorrow morning. Well, at least I think that is what she said.”

He had worried a little because Chanyeol fumbled under her gaze, even when they were all sat in the living room not too long after, with her record player on as she sat there with her eyes closed, humming softly under her breath. Because his grandmother had been strict as his mother once, a little more gentle, but someone who would have told you not to slouch while you eat, would have frowned at the you talked. She had come to visit for a few weeks, suddenly wanting to see her youngest grandkid.

Yet the scene that had greeted him after he left the room to take a call and returned a while after, had his shoulders untensing and a little laugh bubbling up in his mouth. He had been worried until he found Chanyeol sitting on the floor beside his grandmother’s chair, his head on her thigh and snoring softly. And even though she’s not as keen as she used to be, not as aware of most things, not anymore, she had run her fingers through his dark hair. It didn’t take long for Baekhyun to recognise the lullaby she sang. One she had always sung to him.

“You are very special to this boy, my Baekhyunee.”  
  


The sunsets and the candles go out. Words aren’t said, not uttered in a whisper, but the fingers tipping his chin up could be felt and those soft lips, too. Calloused fingers press into the skin of Baekhyun’s hips as Chanyeol leans over him, deepening the kiss, mouth warm, fitting so perfectly that Baekhyun pulls back only to kiss him some more. Then again and again.

Chanyeol pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor, quick and careless, before pressing Baekhyun in the pillows on his bed, hands soon roaming over naked flesh, groans muffled against desperate kisses. Soon, they’re both bare, rutting into each other, leaving kisses on jaws, on flushed cheeks, on the corner of their mouths, until Chanyeol reaches for something on his bedside table.

Baekhyun’s thoughts are a mess and they all come in a whine when he feels cold oil around his rim, as Chanyeol eases a finger into his tight opening, till he’s knuckle deep and the smaller man catches his wrist so he could breathe. And he can’t, not under Chanyeol’s hooded gaze, heavy lidded, while he builds the pace and adds another, and then another. It has Baekhyun blinking back the tears in his eyes, discomfort on his face, but the taller holds onto his hand and he relishes in the feel, even as Chanyeol unashamedly watches him taking his fingers in.

Nose to nose, hands now tight around the back of thick thighs and arms around broad shoulders, Chanyeol pushes the bulbous head of his cock in, groans at the feeling of Baekhyun’s rim stretched around him before he sinks in further and feels it at the base of his member. It’s tight as he stays still, as Baekhyun closes his thighs around the younger man’s hips and grips onto his back, over his shoulder. His nails dig deep, and it creates crescents on Chanyeol’s flesh. But when he pulls back slowly and suddenly pummels into him, Baekhyun groans and lets his arms fall to either side of his head, clutching onto the pillow there.

Like this, Chanyeol sets a pace, slow but hard, cradling the back of Baekhyun’s head with one hand and wrapping the other around his waist.

“You’re doing so well, Sweetheart.” He whispers, breathless, clenching his jaw when Baekhyun begins to rock his hips back, enveloping more of Chanyeol until he feels so full.

And then he’s clinging on like he doesn’t know what to do, like he just wants to pull Chanyeol further into him until he can’t take anymore, until the beating beneath his chest settles does. So he starts kissing the man’s jaw, mouth warm as he mutters something Chanyeol doesn’t understand, till he’s kissing him behind his ear and making him tighten his hold.

Baekhyun whines when Chanyeol pulls away, reaching out for him blindly in the dark, breath suddenly caught in his throat. Because the pianist’s hands are grabbing at the back of his full thighs, holding them with his calloused, rough hands, pushing them forward until Baekhyun can feel his knees pressing up against his bare chest. Like this, he feels his blush creep up onto his cheeks, feeling overwhelmed by the heat – of Chanyeol watching himself drive into Baekhyun, watching as his rim turned red and catches onto the base of his girth. It’s only when Chanyeol tightens his hold around Baekhyun’s thighs and presses the older man into the back wall, cold against his warm skin, does he start pounding into him, heavy and fast. Almost sluggish like he can’t get enough.

The sound of his reddening skin slapping into Baekhyun’s ass is so lewd and so loud in the one room apartment, noisy because of the oil they made a mess of before. Yet, Chanyeol thrusts in and out, his body comfortable and warm on top of Baekhyun – heavy even.

“You—you feel so good.” Baekhyun sobs, shutting his wet eyes and clenching around Chanyeol’s huge girth that pistons into him.

Everything shines under the moonlight and he thinks Baekhyun looks ethereal, unreal. Under him with his pale skin and dark, droopy eyes. And then he shivers, catching his eye, when he sends him a bashful smile.

Chanyeol thinks he’s in love.

He laughs breathlessly as Baekhyun pushes down onto the mattress and rolls them over, sitting with his knees on either side of Chanyeol’s waist, his swelling member still inside him. They’re still for a minute, sharing short breaths, lips not quite touching. And it’s filthy, Baekhyun thinks, as he places his palms on either side of the pianist’s face, closes his eyes and starts rolling his ass back onto his cock.

It’s hesitant at first because he’s ever done this before, had only ever heard Jongin gossip about it, but Baekhyun soon loses himself in the feeling and keens when Chanyeol grabs onto his wide hips, where the skin is full and soft, and digs his fingers into the flesh there. To stop Baekhyun from moving because he can’t take it anymore. But the older man shakes his head, opening his eyes, all heady and sparkling and pushing down deeper despite Chanyeol’s half-hearted protests.

The oil is starting to dry out and the thrusts are heavier with Chanyeol dragging himself in and out of Baekhyun’s walls that only seem to clench tighter around him as his hands accidentally brush against his own hardness. So he wraps a rough hand around it, jerking it off while planting his feet onto the floor beside the mattress to thrust up into the other’s warmth. His free hand grips onto Baekhyun’s reddening ass cheeks, squeezing hard enough that he leaves behind red fingerprints. Everything is messy and harsh, molten and heavy, till the pit of Chanyeol’s stomach tingles to point where he sees stars beneath his eyelids. Like that, he feels Baekhyun wound his arms around him, pulling him so they’re chest to chest, taking his mouth into another kiss once again.

But it’s after Baekhyun comes with a cry, hot white landing on his stomach, on their hands, and trembling under the taller man’s hands from where they’re now pressed into the dip of his back, that Chanyeol comes himself. He comes so strongly that he visibly shudders, painting Baekhyun’s walls in hot streaks, pulsing inside the man – even though his limbs feel sore and his mind is hazy.  
Chanyeol slips out of Baekhyun gently pushes him onto his back, before he’s slipping himself in again, slowly thrusting his come back into the man who looks at like the stars have made him themselves. Looks at him in a way he thinks he doesn’t deserve. With a sharp intake of breath, Baekhyun brings Chanyeol’s head to his chest, his own heartbeat unstable and loud against the pianist’s ear.

And like this, with Baekhyun’s leg hooked around Chanyeol’s waist and the sheets beneath them stained, their breaths grow quiet and in sync.

The night stands still and Chanyeol moves to pull out after planting a soft kiss on the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth, but the latter’s eyes flutter open and he shakes his head no. So, Chanyeol shuffled them further up the mattress and hums under his breath, eyelids becoming heavy and his arms hugging the other. He falls asleep by the time Baekhyun slips off with a since and dawdles over to the sink, wetting a small towel to clean himself before cleaning up Chanyeol, too.

Snuggled against his side under the thin covers, tangling their legs together, Baekhyun falls asleep with his nose buried into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck.

 _The night grows late as I stare at you_  
 _And I want to stop time_  
 _To keep you in my eyes longer_  
 _For me_  
  
  
  
  
“Byun Baekhyun.”

He freezes mid-step, leg over the side of his balcony and hand reaching for the vines right next to it, attempting to sneak out of the house right after dinner with a spare pair of shoes in his other hand. Mrs Byun frowns at the state of her son, tousled hair, untucked shirt and droopy eyes free of the soft colours he would paint them with. Her frown only deepens when she notices Baekhyun’s bare hands, not sight of the gloves she always has pressed and ironed for him.

“You have missed all your bookings,” she starts, her voice laced with disapproval as she gestures for him to come inside and take the seat in front of her, and he does, reluctantly. “I understand that there is not much to do in Seoul; you are not getting married here, I understand. Yet, you have not attended a single one of the engagements you were invited to, neither do you seem interested in contacting all the wedding planners I have booked for you.”

Baekhyun hunches in his seat, legs spread and head dangling, something his mother would have gasped at if it weren’t for the low whine emitting from his lips, looking like his younger self who would pout to get his own way. She almost smiles. Instead, she schools her expression into stern one, tapping her hand against her elbow and unmoving as Baekhyun grows weary.

So, she asks, “do you not want to be married?”

“Mother—”

“It was the only thing your father ever wanted before he passed away.” She cuts in, sighing, “you had agreed, and I thought you would keep to your promise. But I suppose it does not matter to you anymore…”

“It does. It still matters to me.” Baekhyun swallows down the bile in throat. He had promised, and he had repeated it against the night his father had died. It was the only thing he had asked of

Baekhyun, to marry Mr Jung so the Byun’s line of cruise ships could get the help they need, so his own son wouldn’t have to worry. Yet, he had also assured Baekhyun that he would fall in love, and maybe the marriage wouldn’t be so bad. Said Baekhyun would continue to live a lavish life, expensive tea at his expense, and all the rich coloured suits tailored just for him. All the ships he could sail, and all the oceans and places he could see.

He did fall in love. Just not in the way his father expected.

“Then I expect to see you at Mrs Oh’s evening party today.”

Baekhyun could only nod, forgetting his spare pair of shoes that he leaves resting against the foot of his chair.

That night, Chanyeol peers around the entrance of the cinemas, two tickets in his hands, sighing as Sehun presses his lips into a tight line and gestures at the huge clock hanging from the ticket booth. He spends the night gently pushing away the boxes of popcorn offered to him, ignores Jongdae’s questions about where Baekhyun could be. Jongin didn’t know either, shaking his head and looking equally worried because his best friend had said he would come.

They all sigh in relief when he comes strolling into the café the next morning, apologetic.

“Mother made me go to a party.”

It’s a few days later, however, where Chanyeol’s sitting on the hood of Jongdae’s new car, one he had spent all his savings on, claiming he could drive them anywhere he wanted, to Busan, to Daegu, but they all knew he couldn’t get past the first corner beside his house. With a whack to his thigh, something about chipping off the polish with his dirty boots, Chanyeol begrudgingly jumps off the hood. He slips into the passenger side, where Kyungsoo toys with all the buttons and the wheel, ignoring Jongin who says he’s doing it all wrong. They quieten down when they notice the frown on Chanyeol’s face.

“Don’t worry, Yeol. He’s probably just busy.”

Chanyeol simply nods the next morning, as Baekhyun leans over the front desk of Parks and Pearls and explains why he couldn’t make it, saddened at the fact that he wasn’t able to check out Jongdae’s new car. The pianist listened quietly, painting the lids of a set of chipped tea pots.

“Mrs Oh invited me over for tea. It would have been impolite of me to miss it for the third time.”

  
Chanyeol just leans over and kisses the side of his mouth, startling Baekhyun as he starts stuttering about something he doesn’t understand.  
  
  
“Want to go to the market tonight? Dae’s been going on about these new food stalls, plans to steal a basket from his sister so he could fill it up.” Chanyeol suggests, tipping his cap back when all he hears is Kyungsoo yelling in the distant, looking up to see him drenched and covered in sand, a snickering Sehun not too far behind. It’s not long before he returns his attention back to Baekhyun, watching him as he absentmindedly plays with the hem of Chanyeol’s trousers, rolls up to his knees and tanned skin on show under the sun. “You could ask Jongin to come if you’d like.”

Baekhyun hums, staring up at the huge striped umbrella they’re sitting under, his other hand smoothing over the sand beneath them, before he’s looking up at the other.

He shakes his head, an apologetic smile on his lips, but Chanyeol can see the furrow of his eyebrows, sees how he stops playing with the hem of his trousers and just runs his fingers over his skin instead. “Mother had another dinner party planned. She says I cannot miss it.”

Chanyeol sits up then, causing Baekhyun’s hand to fall into his own lap. And although the taller man merely frowns, and hugs his knees to his chest, already nodding his head to say it’s okay, Baekhyun shuffles closer to him.

“We will go next time, alright?” He offers, voice soft and droopy eyes just as gentle, “if you would like, that is.”

And he thinks Chanyeol is handsome – he always is – but when he smiles down at him like he has no worries in the world, hair all ruffled and shirt crumpled in the same way, the wrinkles beside his eyes the same, Baekhyun thinks he’s the most beautiful.

“I’ll take your word for it, Sweetheart.”  
  
  
  
  
“So I kissed Jongdae.” Chanyeol lies, leant against the railings of his balcony, the double doors open to let in some breeze.

Baekhyun chews at his bottom lip, lost in his thoughts. “Oh, you did?”

The younger man brings a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes shut as if that would make the dull thumping of his head disappear. It just grows incessant. It had him storming inside and snatching the book that Baekhyun hasn’t put done since walking into his apartment. It takes the other man by surprise, but so does the look of irritation on Chanyeol’s face, almond eyes shuttering, movements softer while he places the book down gently onto the table.

“Are you okay? You seem smiles away.” Chanyeol wonders, voice low and soft.

Baekhyun stares up at him, and he thinks he looks a little lost, but he beams at him like nothing is wrong. The smile goes as quick as it comes, his droopy eyes following Chanyeol as he kneels down beside the chair Baekhyun’s sitting on, suddenly so weary looking that it has him absentmindedly cupping the side of his lover’s face. And it’s soft, cheeks full and jaw sharp, as Chanyeol slowly closes his eyes and just basks in the touch.

_You need to tell him._

Baekhyun recoils back, flinching, and classes his hands together, tucking them into his lap. The pianist doesn’t notice.

“Chanyeol, I cannot come to Sehun’s birthday party tomorrow night.” Baekhyun suddenly states, stuttering, “I-I know how much you had wanted me to come. However, mother wants me to attend Mr Kim’s feast and I absolutely cannot miss this one—”

“Another party, huh.” Chanyeol intervenes, questionable look on his face, back now turns towards the other man as he had gotten up to return to the balcony doors.

“Well, there is no such thing as too many parties,” Baekhyun tries to joke, reciting something his mother keeps telling him, but he sits with his back straight and nose in the air, tone holding that hard tone when it seems too quiet, “I am sorry I cannot come. Truly sorry. You know how important these things are.”

“Important?” Chanyeol repeats, finally turning around, eyebrows high and mouth quirked into an amused smile, “I always hear about them. Maybe I could accompany you to one, see just how important they are.”

The tension is thick and heady, and Baekhyun isn’t thinking as he abruptly says, “You cannot.”

With the moon hiding behind the clouds, the only source of light in the single room is the lamp that flickers every once in a while, bright enough to illuminate the sudden irritation on Chanyeol’s face. Baekhyun busies himself by brushing the front of his suit jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair dishevelled from the amount of times he’s run his fingers through it.

“Oh, I think I understand,” Chanyeol revels, like he’s finally figured it out, harsh smile in place, stood near the doors to the balcony as he had been when the older man slipped into his apartment without a word. “You’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“You are speaking nonsense.” Baekhyun scowls, perplexed at the younger’s words. He crosses his arms over his chest, jaw ticking, and fingers tapping at his elbows. He’s angry, and he knows Chanyeol is mad, too, but he has no idea what the other man is saying.

Not until Chanyeol looks at him, disarrayed, and explodes, “you are. I’m not enough for you or these tea parties. Maybe it’s the way I don’t know how to talk, or walk straight, or because I slouch when I eat. Or is it because I am poor Park Chanyeol, who doesn’t know a single thing about ships or what kind of diamonds are the best. Like I wouldn’t know what to say if someone from one of your little tea parties asked me my name.”

Baekhyun snaps, livid as he harshly drops his jacket onto the chair and stands up, his fingers trembling this time when he runs it through his hair, “how could you say that?”

Chanyeol stares at his hands as he does so.

“Then why were you so quick to say no?” and he knows it’s a stupid thing to ask, knows that it isn’t in his place to be invited to such things, all grand and rich, all fit for Baekhyun but not himself.

But he asks, the words leaving his mouth before he could give it a second thought.

Baekhyun sighs, exasperated, confused. “It is not your—”

“Not my place? Parties with sandwiches and flutes of champagne, all dressed to the nines just to stand around and laugh; are they too extravagant for someone like me?”

“That is not what I said! You know… that is not what I meant.” Baekhyun yells in disbelief.

  
His voice is loud against the thin walls, frantic almost as he looks at Chanyeol bewildered, wondering why these thoughts ever passed his mind. But Chanyeol looks just as angry and hurt as he gestures wildly at nothing in particular. And Baekhyun notices the glassiness of his eyes, how he wipes his hand across his face to rub out all the frowns, all the wrinkle beside his eyes and mouth.

“But it is what you think, Byun Baekhyun.”

_Not Sweetheart._

_Just Byun Baekhyun._

“Then is that what you think of me?” he asks, voice low and his words a whisper, eyes downcast while he hastily grabs his jacket and his coat, hands fumbling when he almost drops them. Chanyeol doesn’t look up when Baekhyun storms towards the front door, hand holding tightly onto the doorknob, shoulders slouched and the lump in his throat aching. “If it is, Mr Park, then I will take my leave.”

Baekhyun doesn’t leave. He finds himself resting against the front door, outside of the little apartment that seems so warm – and it is from the rain he can see through the window above him. He had slammed the door shut behind him and it’s still ringing through his ears, so he scrunches his jacket up in his hands and brings it up to his chest, panting heavily because he’s made Chanyeol feel like this. So along and out of place, when he’s the only thing that seems to make sense to Baekhyun these days.

“Can I come in?” He whispers loudly, alone in the hallway, not knowing if Chanyeol can hear him from the other side of the door.

But the next thing he knows is that he has his nose buried into the crook of his lover’s neck, faintly smelling of burnt cigarettes and warm like he’s come to known. Warm just like the touch of Chanyeol’s hands around his shoulders as Baekhyun drops his jacket onto the floor and hugs him back.

“Stay with me?” Baekhyun asks, and Chanyeol finds it a little ridiculous because this is home and maybe he should be the one saying it instead, for being stupid. So, he just laughs softly into Baekhyun’s hair and holds him tighter.

“I’ll stay with you, Sweetheart.”  
  
  
  
  
“We’re not going to the party.”

Chanyeol scolds, concentrated on the musical notes he’s trying to read, to play a tune Minseok had made up for him to perform during a party, the café booked for an evening some time next week. But it’s no use, no matter how many times he’s called for Kyungsoo to help him, only earning a shrug from his friend. It doesn’t help that Jongdae is leant over the top of his piano, whines becoming higher by the minute, bored out of his mind because all the stores have closed for the day.

“We always used to crash parties; what’s the deal about this one?” Jongdae complains.

Chanyeol purses his lips, giving up on reading the notes, pressing his elbows into the keys that echo off the walls of the empty café. It startles Sehun, who jolts up from where he was napping at one of the tables, rubbing at his bleary eyes.

“It’s Baekhyun’s party,” the pianist explains, slowly, even if Jongdae seems like he isn’t listening. “with some very important guests. Said he’ll meet up with us after once he’s done.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

“But it’s already eleven at night, and most of the town has locked up their stores and switched off their lights. Everyone except the rich. Booking jazz bands from all around, keeping their neighbourhoods open, houses buzzing with music and champagne, they hold their parties well into the night. There’s been many times where Chanyeol would find his friends loitering around the sides of the huge houses, flirting and giggling with some lost guests, till they return to a disapproving looking Chanyeol, who sits on the curb of the pavement and waits for them.

“Come on, Yeol.” Jongdae pleads, slinking away from the piano and towards Sehun. “We won’t steal anything, I swear. Just… to look and see. They won’t even notice us there. I’m sure your sweetheart won’t mind.”

That’s how Chanyeol finds himself leaning against the corner of the Byun resident, far enough that he hear the soft music played by the jazz band in the backyard, can see the little bulbs of light hanging from tree to tree from where he’s stood in the dark. But they’re standing far enough that no one has noticed the four uninvited guests trying to peer in through the kitchen window.

“This is silly.” Chanyeol explains, voice deep and loud, quickly being shushed by the three of his friends.

He stares, amused, as he watches them shove at each other so they could look at the feast laid out on the dining table, grumbling under their breaths when the kitchen suddenly clears out and the lights turn off. The sounds of the music quietens down but the lively chatter amongst the people grows louder, a little too loud for a late night, yet they know almost everyone in the neighbourhood is attending. Chanyeol wonders how Baekhyun does it, smiling to himself.

“Oh, oh, look, Mr Byun is giving a speech.”

The tall breaks out of his reverie and pushes of the wall, noticing how his friends have inched closer to the yard. He starts to scold them for getting so close but realises that the guests are facing Baekhyun, their backs turned to the four men lingering behind them.

Amidst the fancy suits and sparking dresses, it all seems a little surreal, but it’s Baekhyun walking up onto the makeshift stage, mouth rectangular as he laughs and eyes disappearing into crescents, that takes Chanyeol’s breath away. And it’s obvious because Jongdae notices, and so does Kyungsoo and Sehun, and they snicker at him, teasing him till a bright blush blooms on his face.

It’s Baekhyun dressed in the prettiest lilac suit tailored perfectly to him, adorned with white diamond buttons, and his hands are covered in matching white gloves. His dark hair is brushed back, some falling into his droopy eyes as he steals a glance at everyone. The same eyes are covered with the faintest smudges of black, looking like the Byun Baekhyun everyone else knows. All under the pretty lights hanging behind him. That’s how Chanyeol sees him.

“I would like to thank everyone for coming tonight,” Baekhyun starts, raising his glass of champagne, the guests mimicking his movement with eager nods. His voice is strong - pleasant and welcoming - but there’s something about it that Chanyeol can’t pinpoint, making him frown.

“It truly means a lot to me, and I am sure it would have meant a lot to my father if he was here. I held this party in his honour; it was the least I could do.”

Sehun frowns the same as Chanyeol, too, confused, as he looks up at his taller friend from where he’s crouching beside the side of the house, “isn’t this just another one of those rich dinner parties. What’s so special about this one? Did he tell you?”

Chanyeol shakes his head, whispering, “I… don’t think so.”

“As you know,” Baekhyun continues, earning hearty laughs when he suddenly pouts, playful, “the main event will not take place in Seoul, sadly. But I assure you, I will arrange all the accommodations and everything else when you all come. I mean, I would be honoured if you all could make it to my wedding in Milan. As for now, I can only thank you for attending my engagement party. It is highly… appreciated.”

It’s all a buzz and it feels a whole lot like drowning, Chanyeol’s eardrums pounding in his head as he stares at the stage, at Baekhyun, who is clapping along with everyone else with the brightest smile on his face. The words sink in heavily and his gaze wavers, as he does, but Jongdae catches him. and Chanyeol barely notices Kyungsoo shaking him by the shoulders, voice growing angrier and louder, and all he could do is blink at him. None of it makes sense, not even Baekhyun’s shy giggle that seems too loud in his ears, as he chats with his guests. It seems too much for Chanyeol.

“What the fuck?” Sehun roars, but it’s faint, falling into a buzz of the party as they head back indoors, excited by the news they have known for years.

Yet, it’s loud enough for Baekhyun to hear and halt in his spot, searching around for that familiar voice with squinted eyes, ready to head back inside when Jongin comes out of the house with a frown. Until he catches the shadows in the dark and looks right at Chanyeol. Baekhyun’s face pales immediately, knees wobbly as he strides towards him, ignoring his mother calling his name. He brushes past Jongin and picks up his pace when Chanyeol suddenly looks away.

“No, no, no.”

But he doesn’t get to take a step closer, feeling a harsh shove at his shoulder and a rough grunt, falling back a step or two and coming face to face with a furious Sehun. He’s only ever seen the boy with a blank expression or a toothy grin whenever he’d find something funny, often snuggling up to Kyungsoo because he never sleeps and leaves home before the sun rises. Often offers him food he steals from the backroom of the store. But now he stands there, angry, not letting Baekhyun take another step closer to Chanyeol.

“This was all a joke to you, wasn’t it?” Sehun seethes, shoving at Baekhyun’s shoulder again when the smaller man desperately tries to reach out, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think Baekhyun could make a really good actor. “Toying with a poor boy’s heart while you were here, engaged to another man this whole time, who is just as rich and filthy as you. All of you.”

Chanyeol stays mute, mind numb, the ache in his chest so heavy that he thumps against his chest with a closed first so he could breathe, shakes his head so he could understand. It crawls up his throat and he muffles the sound that escapes into the sleeve of his shirt, turning around so none of his friends will notice. So, Baekhyun doesn’t notice. But along with the ache, something pinches at his heart when Sehun yells at him. He stays in place, however, blinking away the incessant stinging of his eyes.

“I don’t blame him. You had us all fooled.” Sehun continues, stoic and hard-headed. People have started coming out into the garden again, noticing all the ruckus that’s going and murmuring to themselves, at the sigh of a dishevelled looking Baekhyun, at them. Sehun doesn’t care. “How pathetic could you be to do this?”

Baekhyun isn’t listening.

“Sehun—Sehun, please. Please let me talk to him.” His pleas are hopeless, fumbling all over his words as he tries stepping around the younger boy again, only to be shoved back. He’s pushed right into Jongin, who holds onto Baekhyun, looking up at Sehun in disbelief. And there’s a finger in his face, angry at him, too, accusing him as well.

“You knew, too.” Sehun yells, hurt, “You fucking knew and you didn’t say a word. You’re all the same. Every single one of you.”

And Jongin knows he has no right to be hurt, but he is, “it is not what you think. Please—just let him talk to Chanyeol.”

“Not a chance.”

With that, Sehun follows after his friends, never once glancing back and getting into Jongdae’s car, that looks so beaten and chipped – even though it works perfectly fine – against the polished Rolls-Royce’s. So out of place, even though it does what it needs to do. And Chanyeol finds it ironic because he finally understands.

“Chanyeol! Chanye—Jongin, let me go!”

“He’s gone. He’s gone, Baekhyun.” Jongin croaks out, grabbing onto his best friend’s wrist and pulling him away and onto the porch of the house. Away from everyone’s curious stares. He watches as Baekhyun begins to heave, short sharp breaths, leaning onto the railings of the porch with his head in-between his arms as he chokes on his sob. And Jongin stays, rubbing at Baekhyun’s back when he suddenly loses the feeling in his legs and curls up into a ball, muffling his cries well into the night, when the guests have left and the stars have disappeared.  
  
  
  
  
The store is empty when Baekhyun steps in few days later, agonised and tired, yet the bell above the door still rings. For a second, he thinks no one is there, thinks maybe it’s supposed to closed or they didn’t hear the bell. So, he turns around to leave, standing there for a second too long, nervous and a little scared. But just as he opens the door, he hears the all too familiar voice, so warm and welcoming, full of smiles, that he immediately turns back around.

“Welcome to Parks and Pearls. How may I help…”

Chanyeol trails off, the smile slipping off his face, a dismissive look in his eyes as he turns to head back into the supply room. If Baekhyun weren’t so stubborn, he would be intimidated by the taller man's harsh glare, but instead he quickly steps towards the desk.

“Chanyeol, Chanyeol, wait.” He pleads.

“We’re closed.”

“Please just hear me out.” Baekhyun begins to babble.

His bare hands hold on tightly to the edge of the front desk, gloves forgotten on his dressing table as he had rushed to the store. But Chanyeol doesn’t notice this time, keeping his back to the smaller man. He still listens, though, shoulders stiff and heart beating too loudly inside his chest as Baekhyun speaks louder, “Please. You must know that it is not what it seems. I would never. Not to anyone, especially not to you.”

“I think it’s pretty clear,” Chanyeol is quick to respond, running a hand down his face as if that would rub away at the frown lines on his face, at his red rimmed eyes from the few sleepless nights he’s had, “you’re getting married. What else is there to explain? I was your little fling while you were in Seoul. That’s all there is to it—”

Baekhyun explodes, frustrated, “You are not listening to me! You are not being fair.”

“I’m not being fair?!” Chanyeol yells, and his voice is so deep and so loud, that Baekhyun visibly flinches. Yet, he remains standing there, shoulders squared and looking the pianist directly in the eye.

But Chanyeol is fuming, “I’m not being fair when it’s you has been hiding this from me? That you’re leaving and marrying another man. It’s you who isn’t being fair. You who made me believe that you—that you were actually falling in love with me. How foolish must I have looked to you?”

Baekhyun stares in complete disbelief, just as angry, tears swimming in his eyes as he narrows them. “I am in love with you!”

“Yeah? Could have fooled me.”

It’s quiet, save for the heavy breathing and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Chanyeol’s shoulders slump and he seems even wearier, tired, the sleepless nights finally catching up to him. Baekhyun’s heart squeezes at the sight, hesitantly reaching forward and placing a hand on the desk, trying to peer into the his down casted eyes.

“Were you going to ever tell me?” Chanyeol asks, voice trembling and loud in the empty antique store.

The colours of the sunset shine through the windows, painting everything in orange and yellow and even Baekhyun who quickly shakes his head, hands gripping the edge of the wooden desk. It’s when Chanyeol asks again, that he looks at him, eyes hard but pleading, wanting him to understand.

“Of course I would have,” Baekhyun tries to assure, tripping up over his thoughts, “I was going to tell you when…”

“When? When you’re halfway across the world? Maybe in a letter? In an invitation?”

“No, no, I would not have—”

“I wouldn’t have stopped you,” The crack in Chanyeol’s voice is heart-breaking, reverberating off the walls as he runs his hands through his hair and presses his lips together as if Baekhyun wouldn’t notice. But he does and his eyes waver, wet and blinking furiously. “I’m not someone you’d stay here for. I’m no one. But didn’t I cross your mind at least once?”

“It is not like that. Chanyeol, please.” Baekhyun cries, shaking his head.

It’s then when Jongdae steps into the store with an armful of wrapped up vases, the trunk of his car open for more thing to carry inside, and he finds Baekhyun. The older man looks lost in the middle of the store, eyes wide and slightly scared, especially when he spots Sehun walking in after Jongdae. He doesn’t say anything, only glancing at Chanyeol, full of longing and sorrow, and then he bows at the two of them before quietly excusing himself. But just before he steps out of the store he has grown so attached to, like a place that feels more like home than his own ever did, he stands there, hopeful.

“I- I am sorry. I really am.”

With something caught in his throat, Chanyeol simply nods and finally speaks, “It was nice knowing you, Byun Baekhyun.”  
  
  
  
  
“You’re really leaving.”

Jongin is out of breath, panting, as he halts right outside of the steps leading up to the Byun resident. He eyes all the luggage, the paintings wrapped delicately with paper, and the cars packed full of them. Then he finds Baekhyun sitting on the last step, spacing out as the maids scurry around behind him, asking if he needs anything before leaving. At the back of Jongin’s mind, he thinks it’s odd seeing Baekhyun out of his usual suits, dressed in a loose shirt and breeches, white tennis shoes instead of leather, hair ruffled and face bare.

“What reason do I have to stay here, Jongin?” Baekhyun mutters, squinting his eyes when the sun shines brighter as he stands up to greet his best friend. That’s when he notices Jongin’s empty hands, not even a bag, and he frowns. “Are you not coming?”

His best friend softly shakes his head, smile full, “I am staying here, Baekhyun. I think… I am going to be staying here for a long time.”

It isn’t long before Baekhyun finds himself in Jongin’s arm, holding his friend tightly, feels his friend rocking himself side to side until he joins in. They hug each other in the midst of the servants packing away everything he owns, of his mother screaming about her boxes of hats. He hugs him close, blinking away his tears and swallowing down the annoying ache in his throat, but it’s no use, and he starts blubbering. His cries come in hiccups, making it harder for him to catch his breath, even though Jongin is trying to calm him down, tone hushed as he speaks comforting words. But it’s not use and Baekhyun sobs, heartbroken.

“I really love him, Jongin.”

“Then stay.”

The clacking of heels is loud as Mrs Byun comes rushing down the steps, sending Jongin a disapproving look. Her hand reaches up to brush Baekhyun’s hair away from his face, cupping his cheek, red and wet from his tears.

“He is not worth staying here for, Baekhyunee. Mr Jung is waiting for you in Milan.”

It’s like a splash of cold water over his head when Baekhyun realises, stepping back from his mother as he looks down at her, wide eyes and open mouthed. She knows. She must, with the way she tightens her lips and stares at him sympathetically, ushering him into her arms. He doesn’t, and she grows irritated, hands dropping to her sides while she looks at him sternly.

“I am not blind, my son. I have seen the boy countless of times, dropping you off at the doorstep. I would have not minded if he were your friend – they come and go but friends do not kiss, I am sure of that. Although, I cannot say I blame you. These boys are charming when they want to be, but we- we people are smarter. Are we not?”

The tears have dried up, but the sun still shines brightly, and Baekhyun stares at his mother in shock, blinking in realisation as he speaks. “You made me go to all these parties so… so I could stay away from him. Did you not?”

“I had to.” She simply states.

“How could I not have known—”

“Oh, it is not such a horrible thing. The boy would have used you for your money if I did not.”

Jongin opens his mouth to speak, equally as shocked, jaw ticking and eyes mad, but Baekhyun steps in between and yells, appalled, “he is not like that, mother!”

The older Byun just tuts, waving her hand around as if to dismiss it all, yet her tone is hard and mocking, “then ask yourself this. Will he ever be able to give you anything? When you have been brought up with the finest of things. Can he buy you a set of flowers, let alone pearls? Can he—”

“He does not need to.” Baekhyun argues, and he knows he looks a wreck, notices all the maids stilling in their spots at the sight of him, tears spilling out of his angry eyes, mouth wide and spewing words loudly, “even if he can, and he does, do you think that is all I care about. Mother. He is more than all of that.”

“More than your father’s promises?”

Baekhyun’s mother hums as the fight leaves her son’s body, face pale and mouth taught, shrugging off Jongin’s hold when he goes to grasp his shoulder. Baekhyun mindlessly walks to the car and climbs in, sitting there with his hands in his lap and his pile of suitcases beside him, earning a satisfied grin from his mother before she’s sneering at Jongin. She had hopes he would have at least understood, but he’s no better than them.

“You know he loves uncle Baekho more than anything,” Jongin sighs, and something flickers in Mrs Byun’s eyes before she looks away, “he promised, and so did you, but sometimes things happen. Your son has fallen in love. With someone who treasures him very much. It is just upsetting that you cannot see how happy he makes him.”  
Baekhyun catches his mother’s eye through the window, turning away and staring at nothing when he does.

_Does he make you happy?”_

_More than anyone ever has._  
  
  
  
  
“You’d be mad to let him go.”

It rings in Chanyeol’s ears as he stares at Sehun, fingers stilling on the piano keys. Kyungsoo looks up, too, from where he’s trying to read the newspaper Junmyeon had left on their table, sharing a glance with an equally confused Jongdae. The youngest of them sighs and pushes away from the floor to ceiling windows he had been staring out of, watching the parcels being loaded onto the ship.

_Oasis_

Setting off once again.

Sehun sighs, rubbing at his forehead in agitation as he mumbles, “I know I said a lot of things and it’s because I didn’t want to see you hurt. You’re my best friend, my brother, Yeol. And I still think the rich are all the same, sticks up their asses and whatnot.” A heavy pause, “but for what it’s worth, I… I know he really loves you. The look on his face when he left the store that day, it was something… he was devastated.”

The second horn blows from the ship and they all snap their heads to look out of the window, even the few customers scattered in the café do the same, and the crowds of people outside grows, saying their farewells to their loved ones. It’s almost earth shattering, shaking the framed paintings on the walls.

“What do you suppose I do when I go. That’s to say if he actually listens to what I have to say.” Chanyeol asks, voice blunt, busying himself with the piano keys, knowing what tine he can play for the night. Knows what tune would perfectly fit the sun rising, the stars appearing and the ship sailing off into the ocean. So, he hums it under his breath, even though his throat is tight and his bottom lip wobbles.

Sehun huffs, clicking his tongue, “never thought I’d ever see Park not knowing what to say.”

“Wait a minute—”

“Tell him you’re in love with him. You are, aren’t you?”

“He is.” Kyungsoo pipes in, setting his newspaper down and taking several steps towards the front door, sending Sehun a bashful smile as he opens it, before sending another to Chanyeol.

Jongdae stands up, too, cocking his head to the side and stuffing his hands into his pockets, his own cheshire smile in place. “We’ve lost another one to love, boys.”

It’s the same breath-taking pout Chanyeol sees first, eyes droopier and still so pretty, as he looks at the suitcases milling around him. It’s the wistful look on his face while he looks out into the ocean, hair windswept just like the waves below them. And the setting sun glows on his sad face like it’s always done. So, it’s the same eyes, the same button nose and a cupid’s bow so prominent, that make Chanyeol forget how to breathe.

The pianist’s ears are buzzing, just like they all those months ago, when his friends holler out after him, whistling with their fingers in their mouths as they follow. He weaves in through the growing crowd, his shoulder bumping into people along the way, apologises spilling out of his mouth while his long legs hurry towards the front of the docking bay. And once again, Chanyeol doesn’t stop. Neither do Sehun or Kyungsoo, or Jongin who suddenly joins them, or Jongdae as he shouts.

“Hey, Park!”

Chanyeol turns around, shaky smile on his lips and his almond eyes huge, his black hair getting in the way as the wind picks up. It ruffles his cotton shirt even more. He looks over his shoulder and catches the grin Jongdae throws at him.

“Yeah?”

“Good luck!”

As Chanyeol stumbles into a stop below the stairs leading up to the front deck, ignoring the protests of the guards and guests, the man climbing onto the ship turns around at the nose of the ruckus and gasps.

“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun manages to call out, surprised, halting on the very top step. And the pianist thinks it must be the wind when he notices the glassiness of Baekhyun’s eyes, the red of his nose as he sniffles. “What- what are you doing here?”

The shrill call of Baekhyun’s name is loud and he looks up at the desk to see Mrs Byun leaning over the railings, eyebrows scrunched up and mouth pulled to the side.

“Byun Baekhyun, you get on this ship right now!”

He doesn’t. Instead he climbs down a step, and then two, looking at Chanyeol, cautiously. Yet, something in his eyes brighten as he does so. He looks small on the step of the Oasis, standing behind him like it’s a palace, and somehow he seems to fit right in, even if he looks completely lost. His bottom lip trembles and his cheeks redden when Chanyeol suddenly smiles at him, almond eyes shimmering, the dimple in his cheek so pronounced. And even though the same eyes are puffy and red rimmed, and his buttons are all in the wrong holes and his shirt is untucked, Baekhyun thinks he’s beautiful.

“I’m not telling you to stay.” Chanyeol yells over the engines of the ship, cursing under his breath when another horn sounds, “I can’t ask that of you. I- I have nothing to offer. You’ll do so much better off in Milan than in Seoul with me.”

He dismisses the gasps from his friends behind him.

“I don’t think I have much time so to put it short, I just- I just wanted to let you know, before you leave, that I love you. I love you, Byun Baekhyun. I do. And it’s crazy how much I do.”

Baekhyun listens, tongue in his cheek, standing on the stairs that seem so pristine, leading up to the grand suits of the ship that he’s known all his life. He stands with shoulders straight, and hands empty of his gloves as he holds onto his arms, hugging himself, looking small and afraid. Nose tilted in the air, eyes blinking up at the funnels of the ship, anyone would think that he doesn’t care, too lost in his thoughts. But then he looks down at Chanyeol, mouth trembling, tears in his eyes and he brokenly says, “you think I would not stay if you asked?”

The pianist shakes his head. “I can't ask that of you. It’d be too selfish of me.”

“Then,” Baekhyun starts, taking another step down, and then one more, ignoring his mother calling his name. “Would it be selfish if I wanted you to ask me to stay?”

Chanyeol is dumb, not even just a little, Baekhyun thinks as his arms drop by his sides and he throws his head back to laugh in disbelief, soon scowling down at the taller man when he asks, “why would you want that?”

“Because it’s crazy how much I love you, too, you idiot.”

And even though, it’s their friends making the most noise, cheers deafening, it seems like the whole world is laughing in joy when Baekhyun throws his bag at an attendant, runs down the steps and jumps into Chanyeol’s awaiting arms without a word. He cries as he plants kisses all over the pianist’s face, on his cheeks, on his forehead, against his pretty eyes, cupping his face like he’s treasure.

He cries when Chanyeol laughs louder, hugging him by the waist so the tip of his toes can’t read the ground, taking his mouth into a kiss. So gently and full of love, gentle unlike the thundering of his heart against Chanyeol’s.

“Stay with me, Sweetheart?”

“Always,” it’s whispered against his blooming smile, so lovely and so pretty, beautiful, “with you.”  
  


Nine years later

As the musicians clear the stage, bowing and playfully shoving at each other, the crowd laughing at the sight, the soft tunes of a lone saxophone filled the air. The lights have been dimmed and the murmurs are gently. And off to the side, Chanyeol watches Sehun play, with his legs cross at the ankles, his tall body leant against the step of the only stage in the place.

_Loey Bar_

A place just a few stores away from Parks and Pearls, owned by Park Chanyeol himself, around the corner of the high street, its big and bold letters bright against the evening sky. But it’s a quiet night, just filled with people meeting up with their friends, basking in small glasses of wine and soft music.

In the midst of it all, Chanyeol spots Jongdae leant over the bar, a towel over his shoulder and empty glasses in front of him, trying to intervene into Jongin and Kyungsoo’s hushed talks. He sulks soon enough, gathering no attention, so he closes his eyes and just listens to Sehun play. It all goes well. The saxophone smooth, years of practise evident, even as Sehun nervously casts a glance at his friends.

Until the sudden clanging of the piano keys cuts through the music and has the customers suddenly looking up at the noise. Chanyeol is just as startled, stepping up onto the stage and narrowing his eyes at the corner where his piano lays. But the frown disappears as quick as it had come, and the audience laugh when they see a sheepish looking Baekhyun rubbing at the back of his head and wincing while the keys are hit once again to create the least melodious tone they have ever heard.

“She wanted to play.” Baekhyun points out, laughing.

Chanyeol steps closer, his leather shoes loud on the wooden stage, stifling his own laugh. Because as soon as he leans over the top of the piano, big eyes, similar to his own almond ones, peer up into curiosity. It’s not long before a pair of small hands are reaching out for him, so Chanyeol takes her in his arms and she squeals, thinking that she looks a lot like Baekhyun when she does.

“Does Yeolbi want to play?” He asks, lifting up the handkerchief around the three year old’s neck, wiping at the drool dribbling down her chin.

She nods eagerly, blinking down at the piano because in her father’s arms, it looks like it’s a long way down, before she’s gurgling something at Baekhyun. “Yeolbi playing for papa.”

“For me?”

Rectangle smile and crescent eyes is what greets Chanyeol when he looks at Baekhyun, and even after all these years, it takes the pianist’s breath away. Just like it had when he had proposed to Baekhyun, near the ocean, banner hanging off Captain Yixing’s ship before he and his friend were chased away.

When Chanyeol had gathered up his savings and brought a run down place, spending months on it until it became the most famous jazz bar on the high street, in the town. When their daughter came into the world with her sharp cries and never-ending curiosity. When Baekhyun’s mother had ended up on his doorstep and hugged him tight and cried, for not being there when her son needed his mother. And she cried harder when Baekhyun pulled her into the house, grinning so brightly as he had ushered her to hold his baby girl.

But especially at night, when Yeolbi is fast asleep in her cot, the moonlight streaming in through the curtains and the stars shimmering like they always do, that Baekhyun nuzzles his face into his husband’s chest and sings for him.

_Dream that I get to keep_   
_Thinking about all day_   
_That was really sweet_   
_That’s you_

Then it all turns into chaos as Yeolbi dribbles onto Chanyeol’s shirt and the taller man doesn’t notice, only breaking out of his reverie when Baekhyun yelps at him before trying to dab at the wet patch, a concentrated look on his face. Yeolbi just laughs, finding it funny, her uncles joining in as they gather up on the stage. And at times like this, Chanyeol is thankful for everything.

He stares lovingly at Yeolbi, who he kisses on the cheek as she holds his face with her tiny hands, giggling, “Dada, no, that icky!”

Looking at his friends cooing over her, at Kyungsoo and Jongin who shove Jongdae away because they want to hold her, at Sehun as he peers over all their heads and shares a funny look with Yeolbi, Chanyeol playfully rolls his eyes. And he looks at Baekhyun as his face breaks out into a goof grin when the older man laughs wholeheartedly, because he has everything he needs right here. When he notices Chanyeol staring at hi, his cheeks turn a pretty pink and he scowls when he feels the burn against his face, wondering why he still blushes around his husband after all these years.

So, when he whispers, “Hey, Sweetheart?”

“What do you want?”

“I love you.”

Baekhyun bursts out laughing and buries his face into Chanyeol’s shoulder, overwhelmed.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
